Dominion of My Heart
by Sunshine1220
Summary: Commanded by his King to seize her kingdom, he chooses to set his eyes on a different prize ... dominion of her heart. What he offers her instead is a chance to choose her own fate. Kings and their kingdoms will fall. Blood will be spilled. When it seems all is lost, can they hold on to everything they've gained?
1. Prologue

**Hello, my lovely readers! Here's a new one for you, but first, please take a moment to read the fine print. ;) **

**Many of you will remember one of my Age of Edward 2017 contest entries, Dominion. This is the expansion, but it is a **_**stand-alone**_** story. You will not need to have read Dominion to understand what is going on. This one will also be told strictly in BPOV. I have some EPOV outtakes planned, but as of now, I don't have any written. Those will likely post either as a separate story or as new chapters of the one shot. **

**The first handful of chapters will cover some of the events in the original contest entry. Some of the finer details have been changed to fit the expansion, but the bulk of these chapters will follow the original timeline. But, as I said, reading the original OS is not necessary ... unless you want to know what is going on in Edward's head in these early moments between them. **

**The prologue—and eventually the epilogue—will be written in third person, past tense, but the chapters will be in first person, present. This was intentional. The chapters will also get longer as we go along. And a shout out to 2caughtup for inspiring the prologue. ;) **

**This is technically a period piece, but it will NOT be historically accurate in the TRUEST sense. It is set in a fictional place, in an unspecified period of time, so I take any and all creative license with the details. While it may be an AU setting, if we can all agree that it is set in medieval times, we can all enjoy it. Please don't send me references to correct any perceived inaccuracies. What you can expect is some romance, some heavy drama/light angst, and a leather-clad, sword-wielding Edward. *sigh* If you have any concerns, please PM me. **

**It is more than half written, but I couldn't wait to post! I plan to post weekly on Tuesdays.**

**Whew ... I think I covered it all. I hope you enjoy it, and I would love to hear your thoughts in a review! **

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**Thanks go out to Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading - because we all know how much I need the feedback ;) - and to Sunflowerfran for editing. Any mistakes are my own. **

**Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

**Dominion of My Heart**

**Prologue **

The Kingdom of Adwen was a fortunate one. Its verdant lands were rich and fertile, and its ports were thriving and brought them abundant riches. Their king ruled with a fair hand with his loving queen beside him. Their young union, arranged between King Charles' late father and the Kingdom of Moira, had already produced two daughters. There was much hope the expected third child would be a son, guaranteeing continued prosperity.

* * *

The screams echoed off the stone walls of the corridor as one of the queen's handmaidens rushed from the room. She carried yet another bundle of blood-soaked linens in her arms. The looks she received from the men stationed along the hall as sentries were ones of shock and fear. They had witnessed woman after woman carrying the same load, and they wondered how the queen had any more blood in her veins.

They were also fearful of their king's reaction. They all knew King Charles was anxiously waiting for word of the arrival of a son. After two daughters, no one wished to know how the king would react to the birth of another. The worried faces of the handmaidens as they fled down the hall, though, made them fear the news they might have to deliver would be grave.

Inside her chambers, the queen continued to wail and moan, all while tears streamed down her face. They were not at all the normal sounds of a laboring woman. Her sounds were constant and seemed to come from the depths of her soul. Everyone knew all was not well.

"Your Majesty, you must calm yourself." The midwife wiped a cool, wet cloth across the warm forehead of Queen Renee. "The babe may choose to stay in your belly, for all the noise you are making is surely enough to make him hide." She tried to smile down at the woman lying abed as she fought to bring her child into the world. For all the pomp and circumstance that usually accompanied the queen, on this day, she was like any other woman bringing forth a child— exposed and vulnerable.

Renee shook her head furiously. "You must ... please make sure my children know I—"

"Hush now. Do not speak as though you are leaving us, My Queen. All will be well. You will see." Her hand brushed the tears from the queen's cheeks. "You will bring a new life into the world, a prince who will one day rule this land. 'Tis hard work for any woman, but doubly so for you, Your Majesty." The midwife firmly believed her words as she said them, but as she gazed down at the woman struggling to survive the ordeal, she saw the pallor of her skin and the dimming light in her eyes, and she wondered for a moment if she should.

"Lady Elizabeth." The midwife's soft voice carried over the whimpers now coming from the queen. "Can you please ready the bundle at the bottom of my basket?"

Lady Elizabeth's eyes grew wide. "Are you sure?"

"I will only use it if necessary, but I want to be ready if it is needed."

Lady Elizabeth nodded and stepped back, turning toward the bundle containing a blade capable of removing the infant prince from his mother's belly if she was not strong enough to survive the birth.

Not an hour passed before the child was nearly delivered from his mother, stuck between this world and the safety of his mother's womb when the queen began to plead with the midwife.

"Please, you must. Promise me my children will be cared for." Queen Renee used all her strength, and her weak grasp held tight to the midwife's apron as she pled for reassurances.

"Of course, Your Majesty. Your child ... your son ... all of your children will be cared for."

The midwife would quickly regret making that promise. For as soon as she received it, the fight seemed to leave the queen's body, and she closed her eyes for the final time.

The women in the room all rallied around their beloved queen, trying to rouse her, to encourage her to push her child from her body, but it was to no avail. The midwife had to unwrap the bundle hidden under a nearby blanket and do the unthinkable.

The child emerged from its mother, mottled pink and red and a strange shade of blue. The urgency of the situation caused them all to gather around the new life, one hanging precariously in the balance. When the less than gentle massaging to the newborn's chest brought forth a quiet whimper before it let loose of a weak cry, they collectively heaved a sigh of relief.

But then they were faced with a dreadful task.

"Someone must inform the king." The midwife's whispered words hung in the air, heavy, weighted with far-reaching implications, for she knew her inability to safely deliver Queen Renee of her child meant her own life was likely a forfeit.

"I will send for a messenger." Lady Elizabeth stepped forth and got a closer look at the child. "What shall I tell him?"

The midwife looked over at the queen, naked and laid bare in more ways than one. The gruesome scene was one she hadn't witnessed in many years, but in the case of the queen and her child, it had been necessary in order to save at least one of their lives. She turned her attention to Lady Elizabeth and gave her the message that would be delivered to the king.

* * *

The merriment that took place in the great hall was akin to a banquet. When word spread that Queen Renee was to deliver the third child of the king, surely a son this time, the impromptu celebration began. Mead was poured and food was served to the small group gathered there, all to keep the king occupied as he waited for word of his wife and child, surrounded by his close advisors.

Lady Elizabeth approached the great hall, and the sounds of merriment and revelry grew louder as she neared. And as the sounds grew louder, so did grow the knot in her belly. She knew the news she had to deliver would not be taken well.

When she stepped closer to the room, she caught the eye of one of the guards stationed at the doorway. "I require the audience of the King's messenger."

"Of course, My Lady." He left his post and hurried to find the man who would deliver the news to the king.

Lady Elizabeth did her best to still her trembling, resisting the urge to wring her hands in consternation. When the herald stepped into her line of vision, she steeled herself to deliver the message.

* * *

The sounds of the harp and flutes abruptly stopped, and all attention turned to the man standing in the archway. Unable to look at the king, his eyes were focused on a tapestry hanging on the far side of the wall.

"What news do you bring? Has my queen finally given me a son?" Charles was wide-eyed, and his excitement was palpable to all in the room.

For his part, the herald stood straight, head held high, and tried to deliver the news without showing his own emotion, for he, himself, was a husband and father. The mere thought of losing his own wife and child was nearly too much to bear, so he could only imagine the pain his king was about to endure. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and gathered his courage before he spoke.

"Your Majesty, the birth of another princess has blessed the House of Swan and the Kingdom of Adwen."

The king's shoulders fell, his hopes for a son, an heir, once more put on hold. "And is she well?" he managed to ask over the murmurings of those gathered with him.

The herald hesitated. "All is well with the child."

"And what of the queen?" A moment of anxiety twisted in his gut at the look on the herald's face, and his even tone belied the ripple of fear passing through him.

The herald's sorrowful eyes finally met the king's. "Her Majesty, Queen Renee, is no longer of this world."

* * *

King Charles looked down at the squirming infant who was swaddled in soft linens and sleeping in a cradle near the fire. She was small, much smaller than her sisters had been. Charles could scarcely believe Renee had difficulty bringing her into the world.

He felt numb, disbelief that his love was gone, and he was now left with this small, weak wisp of a child in her stead. He was faced with a life without the woman he loved at his side, and he now had three daughters to bring up without their mother. It was a heavy burden to bear.

The girl child began to whimper and cry, an almost squawking sound, and a young maiden, who up until that moment had been sitting quietly in the corner, stood and approached the king. "Shall I call for a wet nurse, Your Majesty?"

He merely nodded, and she went to the door to pass along the request.

"Has the queen's ... body"—he choked on the word—"been prepared?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

He kept his gaze fixed on the now screaming infant in the cradle as he issued his demand. "You will take me to her."

"And the child, Your Majesty? What is she to be called?"

King Charles thought back to the private talks he'd had with his wife. Times when they had discussed names of the children Reneé was yet to bear. So focused on having a son, he'd relinquished the choice of a daughter's name to his wife. Remembering the one she spoke of so fondly, it was easy to answer the girl.

"She is to be named Isabella. Isabella Reneé."

* * *

Charles peered down at the lifeless form of his wife. He knew it was only her physical body laid before him, her soul since departed for the afterlife, but he could not stop himself from reaching out to touch her.

"I am so sorry, my love." His whispered words were broken as they passed his lips. He hoped they would reach her, wherever her soul now resided. Her body, still and cold, was merely the vessel that carried her life force, and he knew, in that one touch, she was truly gone. Sobs wracked his body, and he could not contain his tears. Pain and anguish, the likes of which he had never known, ripped through him, and a wave of misguided anger for those responsible burned white-hot inside of him.

With a final, gentle kiss to her lips, he said his goodbye, private and away from prying eyes, before turning and storming from the room. His intent was to make someone pay for what had happened.

The king ignored the pleas of the midwife as she was sentenced to death; her only crime, doing what she could to save a mother and her child. A spectacle was made of her, paraded through town as she was led to the gallows. His people watched as the king found retribution for the loss of his beloved, and it would not soon be forgotten.

* * *

Nearly a generation passed, and Adwen paid dearly for their King's anguish. His bitter, cold heart was evident in the way he dealt with not only his people but his daughters as well. His refusal to remarry gave the people little in the way of reassurances, and rumors of someone usurping him from the throne ran rampant. Talk of such things was quickly snuffed out, those guilty hung for treason, but the lack of confidence only worsened.

The people suffered.

The kingdom of Adwen, nestled in a valley between lush, rolling hills, and at the edge of the sea, was now ripe for the picking, and it was viewed by the surrounding kingdoms as a prize. From as far away as Renée's homeland of Moria across the sea, to the kingdoms of Galon to the north and Rhema to the south, news of Adwen's hardships were known.

It was only a matter of time before Adwen would either fall, or find salvation from its own self-destruction.

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**A/N: So, what do you think? Let me know in a review. **

**And here is something new for me ... fic recs! I've noticed in older fics, writers would spread the word about wherever great story they were reading at the time, and I wanted to kick off my newest fic with the same. I'll try to rec two a week ... a WIP and a completed story. **

**First up ... a WIP. Written by a wonderful gal who I'm thankful to have as a prereader and lucky enough to call a friend... ****In My Brother's Shadow by 2brown-eyes. **

**Summary: As a child, Bella always felt second best when in it came to her twin brother, Emmett. Now years later, an accident has brought her back to Forks. Will she be thrust back into her brother's shadow? Or will she be finally be seen as something other than Emmett's sister.**

**I love this independent Bella, and Edward is proving himself to be more than he first appeared to be. Give this one a look if you aren't already reading it. **

**And a completed classic I'm currently reading ... ****Sideline Collision by Nolebucgrl. **

**Summary: A cocky QB runs into a snarky band geek. What happens when they collide on and off the field? **

**How I managed to have not read this one before, I will never know. Cockyback and Reed Girl are quickly becoming two of my favorite characters. I FLOVE this one!**

**Don't forget to leave me some love! See ya next week! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading and to Sunflowerfran for editing. All mistakes are my own.**

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**Dominion of My Heart**

**Chapter 1**

The end of the season brings with it a somber mood. The crops harvested have given us our worst yields yet, and many of our people go hungry. The people of Adwen are suffering, and I fear there is nothing to be done about it. My handmaiden tells me the murmurings of the household are accusations against my father, for their king refuses to seek help from our neighbors to the north or south. Our alliance with Moira, my mother's homeland, has been strained since her passing, so they offer little in the way of assistance.

It is no surprise an army of men arrived not three days ago.

The far-off field is covered with brightly colored tents, fires blazing throughout their camp, and their horses freely graze in the pastures beyond. The men practice with their swords in the daylight hours and play music that floats to my window after sundown. I have watched them every day since they arrived, and every day, man after man is sent with messages for my father, only to be sent away. It is only a matter of time before they make their move.

Though, no one yet knows if it is to attack us or to offer help.

Perhaps, even if they were to claim Adwen, they might save what is left of her. As I've watched my homeland sink into despair, I know something drastic must happen, or many will soon perish. Father has warned us all not to stray outside the keep, not even to the courtyard for fresh air. So I am kept in my rooms ... in my temporary prison.

* * *

The sounds of heavy, hurried footsteps as they pass my chambers is enough to rouse me from my restless sleep. I pull the blanket higher over my head in an effort to block out the intrusion. When shouting voices begin to carry through my door, their tone of alarm evident, I throw off my bed coverings and huff in annoyance. But when a reverberating thump vibrates the shutters covering my window, only to be repeated over and over, panic and alarm surge through me.

A crashing sound, followed by what can only be described as a war cry, causes me to hurry from my bed. I fight my linens and bed curtains as I struggle to get to my feet, and I nearly trip as I rush to the window. Finally reaching my it, I throw open the shutters, and I am met with the sight of an army of men, the same men who have been camped outside our gates for three days, fighting their way into the courtyard. I watch with wide eyes and a thundering heart. Behind me, my door opens and closes.

"My Lady? Are you well?" The familiar voice of my friend and handmaiden is but a whisper.

"I am well ... for now," I myself whisper. I keep my gaze focused on the scene outside the castle walls.

"What is happening?" Angela's low, trembling voice matches the same dread rising in mine.

"I fear we are under attack." Still looking out the window, I watch as men on foot, as well a on horseback, charge through and into the courtyard.

She hurries to my side and takes my hands in hers, attempting to calm me. "I am sure your father has it all well in hand. His men shall protect you."

I turn to face her. "But do you not see? This is what we have all been so fearful of for so long. Someone has come to take Adwen for their own." My eyes widen as I consider the possibilities. "It could be King Aro's army. Angela, what if—"

"No, My Lady, we mustn't think that way. Your father's men are a formidable force. I am sure we will be protected." She looks past me and out the window before once again meeting my eyes. "We _will_ be fine." She tightens her grip on my hands as she gently tugs me toward my bed. "Come, let us sit."

We settle next to each other, huddling close and holding on to one another for support. We sit in silence as we listen to the chaos raging outside my chamber doors. The faint far away sounds of metal on metal clashing over and over and the cries of men cause us both to cringe and hold on more tightly. I know not how long we wait, but eventually, the sounds of battle fade before ceasing altogether.

"Do you think it is over?" I whisper.

"It is certainly quiet."

I loosen my hold on my dear friend and stand. "I am going to go find out what has happened."

"No, My Lady, I should—"

"It will be all right, Angela. If there were any danger, one of the guards would have come to escort us to safety."

She nods her agreement and does not try to stop me.

Opening my chamber door, I peek my head out and into the corridor. My eyes widen at the sight before me.

No longer is one of my father's guards stationed outside my door. No, I am met with the eyes of a stranger, dressed in strange clothes, who is both taller and broader than any man I have ever seen. Our eyes meet, and while intimidating, he does not strike fear in me. We stand in mutual silence for many moments until he speaks.

"My Lady, it is best if you remain in your chambers for the night." His voice is deep, rough, but not at all aggressive.

"Of course," I whisper.

Just as I step back from the doorway, he speaks. "If you require anything, all you need do is ask."

I merely nod and close my door. My heart is beating furiously, and my breaths nearly match its pace.

"My Lady?"

"'Tis fine, Angela." I turn and face her. "I believe we are safe, but ..."

"But what?" She sits at the edge of my bed, her eyes wide and her hands gripping the blankets beneath her. "What is it?"

"I believe the castle is under siege."

* * *

I pick over the meager offering that is to break my fast. The small bowl of grains and the piece of under-ripened fruit are hardly enough to fill my stomach. If this is all I am offered, as a princess no less, I fear for what the peasants who work our fields and care for our livestock are dining on this day.

Early this morning, I was again reminded to stay in my chambers. When I opened my door at first light, curious to see who was standing guard, I was met with yet another stranger in strange clothes. And yet again, with an intimidating yet polite tone, I was told to remain in my rooms. Angela was in quite a state when she brought me my meal. Even at such an early hour, gossip was already being shared in the kitchens and beyond. With much excitement and a bit of trepidation, my friend relayed quite the tale of the events of the past evening.

It seems the army taking up residence in the castle is from Galon, and the crowned prince himself is here to claim Adwen for his king. But as my father still lives after their attack, I am unsure claiming our kingdom for their own is their goal.

According to the quiet chatter of the servants, my father is to speak later today with the leaders of the visiting army. The rumors are swirling about the reason for the meeting. Some say they are here to form a tentative peace agreement. Others believe they still plan to attack and conquer us. I am sure of only one thing; I will be glad when this is over.

The day stretches on in the familiar monotony I have come to expect. I spend my day between working on needlepoint and taking a break to watch the men in the field. While appearing to be battle ready, to me they do not appear to have any immediate plans to mount another attack.

I grow restless as the light of day begins to wane, and just as the sun disappears below the horizon, Angela enters my bedchamber. "Are you ready for me to dress you for bed, My Lady?"

"Yes, Angela, thank you."

She quietly assists me, unfastening and unlacing until I'm down to my shift. A knock gets our attention, and Angela quickly helps me into a robe before answering the door.

One of my father's servants steps into my sitting room. "Pardon me, My Lady, His Majesty has requested I notify you of a feast that is to take place tomorrow evening. His Majesty will be hosting our guests. He wishes to inform you your attendance is required, and you are to prepare accordingly."

I nod in acquiescence, wondering why I am to be present for the meal. In times past, when we've had visitors from another kingdom, I have been asked to stay away.

Father is incredibly protective of his daughters, even though he rarely shows us any affection. In fact, at times, it feels as though he barely tolerates the three of us.

Jane is the oldest at twenty-one summers. With her golden hair and her sharp blue eyes, I expected her to be married off many years ago in order to form an alliance, but it has yet to happen. Bree is nineteen summers, and her dark hair and blue eyes make her quite a beauty as well. And while she is much more timid than our older sister, she has a sharp tongue where I am concerned. I, myself, just saw my eighteenth summer.

While we are his most prized possessions, I sometimes feel as though we are just that—his possessions; something to be admired from a distance.

He lost our mother, Renée, when she gave birth to me. It is because of the circumstances of my birth that I am not very close to my sisters; Jane especially. She is the only one of us that has any memory of her and feels as if it is my fault she is gone. Bree does not remember our mother, but I sometimes feel she blames me as well. And then there is me, the daughter who never had the honor of being held by her at all, whether or not I could remember. I know my father misses his wife, but he rarely mentions her in our presence. His cold, unattached nature may keep him at a distance, but he is never outwardly cruel to us, merely withdrawn.

I bid Angela a good night and go back to watching from my window. A small group of six men are retreating from the castle, returning to their camp as the light of the waning harvest moon highlights their forms. They look large, even from this distance, and I wonder how many of them will be at the banquet. In my mind's eye, I picture several of them crowded around the tables in their leathers and furs while the rest of us are dressed in satin and lace. I am suddenly nervous about why my presence tomorrow is required. Deciding that worrying about it will not be helpful, I crawl into my bed. Sleep doesn't come easy, but I eventually drift off, dreaming of large, dancing warriors feasting at my father's table.

* * *

Dawn breaks through the window, and light seeps through the curtains around my bed, waking me. I sit up and stretch lazily. Most mornings I would lie abed and waste as much time as I wished, knowing I had nothing more important to do as a prisoner in my own rooms. But a sense of foreboding accompanies this sunrise. I can't shake the feeling that there's something different about the feast I am to attend tonight.

Another small meal of fruit and cooked grains, along with a cup of tea, has been left for me on my bedside table to break my fast. After using the chamber pot, I climb back into bed to eat, taking a moment to mentally prepare myself for the day to come.

Angela soon arrives to help me dress. She, along with several other servants, bring in a tub, followed by ewer after ewer of hot water. They prepare my bath with scented oils, and I'm soon submerged in the fragrant water. Angela stays behind to help me wash, especially my long hair. After being thoroughly scrubbed, I'm helped out of the tub and wrapped in a large linen sheet, and my hair is dried and brushed.

As Angela assists me into my shift, there is a knock at my door. Quickly grabbing my dressing gown, she guides my arms through the sleeves before answering it, leaving me to tie the belt at my waist.

I am taken aback when my sister enters, as I cannot recall a time when she voluntarily visited me in my rooms. "Sister," Jane says in greeting. "I've come to speak with you about the feast Father is insisting on holding tonight."

"Of course. Please, come in." I open the door just wide enough for her to push her way into my chambers. Her bright gold, flowing gown rustles as she walks past. Even what she deems a simple frock is much finer than most of my dresses. As the oldest, she has been the one to receive the finest fabrics and laces when they arrive from faraway places; a means to show off my father's wealth to any interested in aligning with our kingdom by taking her hand in marriage.

"I need to make sure you know your place tonight," she says pointedly as we both take a seat on the settee before the fire.

"Of course, Jane. I assume this banquet is to prompt an alliance of some kind? I hear rumor there is a Prince among them."

"We can only hope the rumors are true." She looks at me, her piercing blue eyes narrowed. "I need to know you will not try to gain anyone's favor."

My brow furrows in confusion. "We both know I am not one to seek attention. You have nothing to worry about."

"I know that, Isabella. It is bad enough seeing you is a daily reminder that you killed our mother. I certainly do not need to have any of these men take a liking to you and then have you following me to my new home," she says with disdain.

"No, of course not." With my whispered reply, I hang my head as the familiar feelings of guilt and sadness course through me.

"Very well. Now that you understand what is expected of you, I can concentrate on getting his attention," she says, rising to her feet.

"Oh, have you met any of them?" My curiosity is enough to raise my eyes to hers.

"No, and I am not looking forward to it. They all look like dirty savages to me. But," she says with a sigh, "perhaps they are from a wealthy kingdom, and I will at least be comfortable in my new home."

"I am sure Father will do what he can to make it advantageous for you."

"I am sure he will. Just be sure to put in a good word tonight with any you speak to."

If I were to speak my true feelings on my sister, our guests would run the other way, or worse yet, attack. But, if it means the prospect of peace for our kingdom, I will do my best. "I will be sure to tell anyone asking of your ... best qualities."

Seeming satisfied with my answer and excuses herself to prepare for the feast. Dwelling on tonight's possibilities, I realize the future of the entire kingdom may hinge on this single evening. Knowing I need to do my best to ensure a successful alliance, I call Angela back to my chambers to help me prepare.

When she returns, Angela brings another small meal to me. I nibble on a bit of cheese and a few apple slices along with a portion of bread. My already nervous stomach makes it difficult to eat much. When the tray of food is removed, Angela helps me into my undergarments and then my chemise.

"And now your favorite part, My Lady," she teases. She knows I hate dressing for formal events.

"Just get on with it, Angela. Sometimes I think you enjoy torturing me." She actually laughs at this.

"Ah, but think of how lovely you'll look tonight. Perhaps you'll catch the eye of Sir Jacob Black. I hear he's been waiting to ask your father for your hand."

I sigh, her words causing an uneasy feeling in my belly. As brave and noble as he is, Jacob has the personality of a bull. He is arrogant and throws his weight around to get what he wants. And I've also heard rumors of his keeping company with quite a few maidens around the kingdom. I have no desire to wed him. "Whatever Father decides, I must live with his decision. Everyone knows that. As a princess, I have no say in the matter. I will be married off to whomever he chooses for me."

"But a knight, My Lady! Surely as the youngest of three daughters, that is a good prospect, I would think."

"As I said, whatever my father decides, I must agree. Besides, I think he is more focused on marrying off Jane. She is the oldest, after all; _well_ past the age when most princesses are wed."

"Yes, My Lady, but she has the personality of a viper," she whispers and gets a giggle out of me in return.

Soon, my gown is on, laced, tied, and arranged, and I am seated at my dressing table while Angela tends to my hair. If I did not have her assistance, I would be unable to brush it on my own. It has grown so long, it now reaches past my waist. She braids the upper section into a crown of sorts, leaving the rest to flow in waves down my back before placing my circlet upon my head. The three round blue stones match the blue of my gown. The garment has a low, square-cut neckline and long sleeves that flow out past my elbows. It has a low belt with a medallion just above my navel. The split in my skirt allows the white fabric of the other layers to show. It is beautiful in its simplicity. My sisters always choose extravagant jeweled gowns. I prefer simple. Well, as simple as is allowed for a princess.

A knock on the door alerts us that my presence is required. It is time to make my way to the banquet hall. I'm looked over once more by Angela, and she gives her nod of approval before leaving my rooms. A guard escorts me through the corridor, down a staircase, and through yet another passage. We arrive just outside the hall, and I wait to be announced.

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**A/N: Thanks so much for all the love you guys have shown for this one! It still blows me away that people want to read anything of mine. :) As much as I'd love to, I haven't had time to sit down and reply to reviews. I'm gearing up for TFMU, St Louis, and I leave TOMORROW! So, needless to say, I'm running around like a maniac trying to get everything done before I leave my family for nearly a week. Lol. But I do plan to be able to reply ... eventually. Just know, I read and treasure each and every one of them. Xo**

**I want to pass along a new contest in the works. Follow the Crime Crusaders Contest page, right here on FFN, and Twilight Fanfiction Crime Crusaders on Facebook for more details. Submissions begin July 1, so get those entries ready! **

**And now time for some recs! **

**Off the Grid by ghostreader24 is a recently completed story, and a very sweet Actorward taking a breather in small town Michigan. **

**Emergence by knicnort3 is a WIP that is super close to being complete. I'll admit, I'm several chapters behind, so I need to catch up, but it's a great read. **

**For weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	3. Chapter 2

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading and to Sunflowerfran for editing. All mistakes are my own.**

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**Chapter 2**

The blowing of the trumpet startles me, and my hand to flies to my chest, my racing heart thumping below my palm. As the doors open, I take a deep breath to calm myself and lower my hand as I raise my head.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Isabella of Adwen, House of Swan."

I look straight ahead to my father, seated on his throne. When I reach him, I do as expected and curtsy. It is deep and with a flourish, just as he prefers in front of an audience. I keep my head held high and focused on my destination as I walk toward the head table. As I approach, I notice several of our guests are seated there as well. Their gruff appearance is similar to the guards who have been stationed throughout the castle since they laid siege to us. These men are no less intimidating. With my eyes now downcast, I take my seat at the long head table, next to Bree.

"Did you not get the request from Father about tonight being a special night? Honestly, Isabella, is that the best gown you have? Surely Father has bought you finer things than that."

Trying to ignore the presence of the men seated nearby while not letting her comments bother me, I take a deep breath. "Yes, I'm sure I have something finer, but this is what I find most comfortable."

"Well, you'll never get a husband if you insist on dressing like a peasant." She sips from her goblet, her eyes focused on the other guests.

Her flippant remark only sparks my irritation, and I quickly offer a retort. "Perhaps I do not wish for a husband who is concerned with what frock I happen to be wearing. If he is worried over the finery I wear, instead of matters of state, perhaps he would be better suited to spending time with a stable boy instead of a wife." The deep chuckle to my right grabs my attention, and I turn to find who has the nerve to eavesdrop on our conversation.

The man's close proximity is shocking as he observes me, and I regard him in return. Seated alongside his countrymen, they form quite a formidable looking bunch. I take them in as a group and realize they are the six men I watched return to their camp last night. They are all large; tall with broad shoulders, bearded, and all but one has dark hair. They are all dressed in heavy furs and leathers, the same strange clothing I have seen on the unfamiliar guards. I question if perhaps they are only warriors, but if they were, they would not be seated at my father's table. Their mere presence is enough to tell me these men are important, and I should tread carefully and respectfully.

The one with a spark of amusement on his face is seated closest to me, in the chair beside mine. He is quite handsome. His dark, riotous hair, is bronze in color in this low light, and his heavy beard seems to be hiding a mischievous smile. His bright jade green eyes are dancing with mirth.

I feel I must make up for my unladylike comment. "I beg your pardon, My Lord. I did not know my sister, and I had an audience. Please forgive me for exposing you to my vile tongue."

"No, no. Do not apologize on my behalf. I, for one, enjoy hearing what is on the mind of a maiden. And a princess at that. Please do not stop on my account." The brightness of his eyes and the turned-up corner of his mouth cause me to smile. I quickly look down, hoping he will not see. "Do not worry, I will tell no one of your _vile tongue_ as you called it. Your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you, My Lord," I say softly.

Just then, the food is brought to the table. The mead and ale are soon being poured, and it doesn't take long for the revelry to begin. When my father chooses this moment to stand and make a toast, the room quiets.

"I would like to formally welcome our guests from the north, from the Kingdom of Galon. His Royal Highness, Prince Edward Cullen of Galon, Lord Emmett McCarty, Lord Jasper Whitlock, Sir Garrett Charles, Sir Alec Smith, and Sir Michael Newton, welcome to Adwen. May peace and long life bless us all." As cheers sound around him, my father downs his entire goblet in one swallow and asks for more. I have never seen him so seemingly distressed.

It is then I realize the weight of my father's words. These men are from Galon; their army is known for raiding villages and claiming entire territories for their own. I have to wonder why their attack last night did not end with my father dead and Adwen under their control. What agreement have they reached?

While Jane is busy flaunting herself at any man that will look her way, Bree appears as nervous as I feel. "You do not think he would, do you?" she whispers.

"If it means keeping the kingdom and its people safe, I am sure he already has. It is our duty, sister. If not Galon, then it would be another kingdom. We should be glad the opportunity has been brought to us. Father has been unable to make an alliance with anyone else." I turn to look into her eyes. "Do you not see? This is exactly what our people need. A marriage with one of us will mean protection for our people, Bree. Tell me you do not wish for that."

"But I do not wish to leave Adwen. This is my home."

Even though I feel much the same, I do my best to smile. "We mustn't worry, sister. As the oldest, I am sure Jane would be best suited. Did you not notice how the men are all older? Surely, they would want Jane over us. She carries herself regally as a princess should."

She sniffs and straightens her back before reaching for her cup with a trembling hand. "Well, we certainly know _you_ do not carry yourself as a princess." She turns to me, her worry barely concealed behind the false confidence in her eyes. "I only hope you are right. I have no wish to leave my home for a land such as _Galon_," she spits, as if the name of the kingdom tastes bad on her tongue.

Belying her show of tenacity, her trembling hand reaches for mine under the table and squeezes. I know she is worried; I am as well.

Looking over the group, I have to wonder which one is the prince. They are all dressed similarly, none better than the rest. At first glance, they look menacing, rough. But upon closer inspection, they are all relatively neat and clean, considering they have been living in tents in the middle of a field for many days. The rumors of the Galon warriors tell of dirty savages, without any regard for anyone else. These men appear nothing like the stories would have me believe. It makes me wonder if the other rumors are true.

The sounds of the harp, lute, and other instruments interrupt my thoughts, and I notice the floor is already full of lords and ladies stepping to the music. I know dancing will be expected of me tonight, which is why I asked Angela to retrieve my padded slippers. Jane is the first to be asked, and it is by one of our guests. He is tall, but thinner than the rest, and unlike the others, he has light hair. He has a pleasant smile and guides my sister around the floor with ease and grace.

Bree and I are approached by the largest of the group. He has short, almost black hair. His smile is infectious, with a set of dimples peeking just above the edge of his beard that make him slightly less intimidating.

He bows as he reaches us. "Your Royal Highnesses, allow me to introduce myself. Lord Emmett McCarty, of Galon. Would one of you lovely ladies give me the honor of this dance?"

Bree's eyes are wide, and some of the color drains from her cheeks. She looks terrified. I turn toward the man asking for a dance and make the decision for her. "The honor would be all mine, Lord McCarty."

He takes my hand and escorts me to the dance floor. For a large man as he is surprisingly graceful. And talkative. I find out he is wed, and has a wife and young daughter, Emily, at home. His proud smile as he speaks of the girl tells me she is precious to him. Many men dismiss their daughters, being only mildly interested in their sons, for the single reason that they are heirs. It is refreshing to hear a man speak of his daughter as if she is a treasure. Perhaps my sister will have a pleasant life there, after all.

"I beg your pardon, My Lord, but what is your connection to the house of Cullen?"

"Ah, you see, Queen Esme is my aunt. My mother's sister. And our king is uncle to Lord Jasper as well."

"So, the prince is your cousin?"

"Indeed, My Lady. The rest of our friends here tonight are high ranking knights. We came to offer your king lasting peace, if he will agree to our terms."

"He would be most foolish to refuse you, I would think. If the rumors are true, you always get what you want, do you not?"

"Ah, a lady with a sharp mind and tongue to match. My Rosalie would love you." He laughs as he spins us around the dance floor. As the music comes to a close, Lord Emmett bows once again, this time placing a kiss on my knuckles. "It was an absolute pleasure, Your Highness. Until we meet again." As he begins to walk me back to the table, I am asked for a dance by another of his group.

"Lady Isabella, may I introduce Sir Alec Smith."

Momentarily distracted by the nearby, looming figure of my father's trusted knight, Sir Jacob Black and the menacing scowl on his face, I quickly collect myself, focusing my attention on the man before me.

I reach out my hand for the proper greeting, and as he takes it, he gives a slight bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. May I have the next dance?"

"Of course." And so my evening goes.

I am spun around the dance floor by every member of our visiting group, save one—the man that overheard my conversation with Bree. He has so far only observed the revelry around him. His gaze is intense, as though he can see my very soul. He swirls the liquid in his goblet, still with his eyes locked on mine as he drinks. It is disconcerting, to say the least, and I cannot help but look away.

I occasionally catch glimpses of Jacob as well. He seems to have been held at bay by my father's men. At one point, I can see him speaking to my father, who denies whatever his request is with a shake of his head. When he leaves my father's side and approaches the man who has been observing me all night, I watch with rapt attention. The stranger stands at his full height and towers over Jacob, his arms crossed in an intimidating pose.

Their conversation seems to be heated, the man's hand moving to the hilt of his sword at one point. Gasping, I turn my head, not knowing if I want to see how this exchange ends. Trying to focus on the words of my partner, it isn't until Jacob appears passing my peripheral vision that I realize the dispute is over. Breathing a sigh of relief, I can return my focus to dancing.

My sisters have both been asked by our guests to dance as well. Jane is doing her best to entice the men she is paired with. She tries so very hard, but possibly too hard, to find a suitable husband.

I almost pity her.

As the evening begins to gradually draw to an end, I notice the man who I have deduced must be the prince, speaking quietly with my father. I can only assume they are making informal plans for the betrothal. Both my father and the prince are looking in my direction, though, and I am suddenly uneasy. I look away, feeling my face heat in a childish blush. Deciding I have had enough for the evening, I bid both my sisters a good night and take my leave.

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Angela assists me in undressing as she asks question after question about the events of the evening. I mumble the answers, but still feel as though I am in a daze of some kind.

"Was Jacob there? Did he ask you to dance?" She is standing behind me, brushing my hair.

"No." Mention of Jacob causes me to reflexively shake my head. "I mean, he was there, in the room, but did not ask me to dance."

She stops her ministrations and places my brush on my dressing table. "Oh," she replies, seemingly disappointed.

I, on the other hand, am relieved. I am not sure I could have dealt with any added drama tonight.

Before she can ask me any additional questions, a knock on the door interrupts our conversation.

"Enter."

A servant is carrying a tray, which contains a sealed note addressed to me.

"For you, My Lady." She holds the tray out for me and curtsies as I pick up the missive.

"Thank you." I turn it over in my hands and run my fingertips over the seal. The blood-red wax is pressed with the image of a lion's head, the official seal of Galon. My heart begins to race, and I am suddenly nervous over its contents. Something tells me I should read it without prying eyes nearby, no matter how friendly they may be. My own eyes never leave the folded paper in my hand as I speak, my head tilting just enough to call over my shoulder. "Angela, if we are done, could you please take your leave?"

"Of course, My Lady. Please let me know if you require anything else."

I nod in response. Once she's on the other side of my door, I break the seal and unfold the parchment.

_Princess Isabella,_

_I hope you will do me the honor of accompanying me tomorrow for the midday meal. I would like to escort you on a chaperoned horseback ride to the countryside. I have a very delicate matter to speak with you about, and privacy is of the utmost importance. After we have discussed what is necessary, if you so desire, you may choose to take your leave. We will have escorts waiting to do so if that is your wish._

_I am looking forward to tomorrow with great anticipation._

_Yours, _

_Edward, Prince of Galon, House of Cullen_

My hands fall to my sides, and the letter slips from my fingers, fluttering to the floor. Why does he wish to see _me_? This can only mean one thing. He must intend to wed me. I thought the duty of marrying for our country would fall to Jane. I felt, as the youngest, I would not have that same responsibility, that I could have more of a choice in who I wed. But it seems it is now out of my hands.

At least the men I met tonight were of good character. They all seemed respectful. Perhaps all but Sir Alec. He seemed just a bit aggressive. But the others, they spoke of their home with fondness and their women with adoration. Perhaps it is not a savage place at all.

I shake my head to clear it. Without giving it too much thought, I quickly write a brief missive accepting Prince Edward's invitation. I call for a servant to see to its delivery, and with both trepidation and anticipation, I hand it over. Nervousness roils through me as I consider what this all means. But it will do me no good to dwell on things this night. I know I must rest so that tomorrow I am able to keep my emotions in check. I crawl into my bed and close my eyes. It takes a while for sleep to claim me, and when it does, it is a restless slumber.

Morning comes too soon, and I am once again being brushed, braided, cinched, dressed, and fluffed. Angela is quiet as she assists me. No doubt that by now she has heard the rumors.

When midday is upon us, a guard knocks to let me know it is time to go. "My Lady ..." She pauses as if she is unsure of what to say.

"It is fine, Angela. It is only a meal and chaperoned at that. You will be accompanying me as well, so I know everything will be fine," I repeat, sounding more and more as if I am attempting to reassure myself. Embracing her, I hold on to her tightly. She is my dearest friend in my life of solitude, even if it may not be proper. She is more a sister to me than those I have by blood.

Even with a guard and my handmaiden accompanying me, walking out of the castle should feel liberating. I have not been let out of doors in nearly a fortnight. But, this day, it feels as though I am being led to the gallows. Just before we reach the stables, I see the man I believe to be Prince Edward waiting for us.

"Thank you, Eric, for escorting Her Highness this far. I will escort her the rest of the way."

Eric bows and turns to leave, and I cannot help but watch him. When his form disappears from sight, the man I've been left with clears his throat, causing me to turn toward him.

"It seems we were never properly introduced. Please allow me to rectify that." Reaching out his hand, he takes mine, so carefully, it is as if he is holding a delicate butterfly. "Edward of Galon, at your service, My Lady." Bowing, he brings my knuckles to his lips, placing the softest of kisses upon them.

My heart is pounding away in my chest as I look into his eyes; eyes as green as the far-off fields in spring. The care he seems to be taking with me is in sharp contrast to his rough exterior.

"Lady Isabella," I reply in no more than a whisper.

"My Lady? Are you well?"

I drop my gaze, embarrassed by my inability to respond as I should have. He bends and catches my eyes, offering me the hint of a smile. His expression conveys his concern, yet he appears hopeful as well.

"Yes, My Lord, I am well. Please forgive me. I am just a bit nervous about our afternoon." I reluctantly remove my hand from his grasp.

He nods as if to agree with me. "Yes, well, it is only a meal. We do need to speak about a few matters, but it is nothing to worry over."

I cannot stop the small laugh that escapes my lips. I quickly try to recover and cover my mouth. "I beg your pardon, My Lord. I seem to act inappropriately when I am nervous." Once again, I feel my face heat.

He reaches out with a single finger and traces my cheek, ever so slightly. "If this is what happens when you are nervous, then I plan to make it a habit, my dear. Come, we must be off." He extends his arm for me and leads me to the stables.

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**A/N: Short and sweet note this week. Still recovering from TFMU. ;) I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things and actually reply to reviews this week, but I'm not guaranteeing it. Like I said, I'm still recovering. Lol**

**And now time for some recs! **

**Do Not Go Gentle by aspire2write is a difficult read, dealing with human trafficking, but it's a great story. The sequel is nearly complete too, so if you enjoy DNGG, check it out too. **

**Uprising by the great pattyrose is one of my favorite WIPs right now. I adore period fics, and this Colonialward has already earned a spot near the top of my fave list. **

**For weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine **


	4. Chapter 3

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, Ceceprincess1217, and to jayhawkbb for all your help, and to Sunflowerfran for editing. All mistakes are my own.**

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**Chapter 3**

As we walk arm in arm, I take several covert glances at him, attempting to discreetly study his strong features. I know I am caught when he tries to hide his blinding smile by turning his head. Even from behind his beard, I can see his amusement. Though, to his credit, he does not say anything about my perusal.

As we pass the field where the knights train, Sir Black is among the men, wielding his sword. The prince stands straighter, his free hand coming to rest over my own.

"A word, Your Highness?" Jacob calls out before we can pass him.

"Apparently, your father's most trusted man doesn't know his place, nor when to quit, does he?" His words confuse me, and it must show on my face. "Please excuse me for just a moment, My Lady," he says, placing another quick kiss on my hand before releasing me.

Watching him walk to the field, I cannot help but notice the strength of his form—his broad shoulders, the confidence in his gait, his head held high. My belly feels as if it is being invaded by a swarm of tiny butterflies as I look upon him, but it is not an unpleasant sensation.

Their exchange seems to get heated rather quickly, and soon they are joined by men from both armies. Anxiously wringing my hands, I turn to Angela. Her wide-eyed expression tells me she, too, is concerned about the exchange. I turn back to the men and watch with rapt attention as they get closer to coming to blows. When Jacob unexpectedly unsheathes his sword, Edward anticipates his move and already has his pointed at Jacob's chest before he can so much as lift his own.

With bated breath and a racing heart, I watch the scene unfold. Edward is flanked by many of his men, and Jacob falters before conceding altogether. He lowers his weapon, his grip loosening until his sword clatters to the ground. Not relenting, Edward nudges the end of his blade at Jacob's chest, leaning in to whisper to him. Only when Jacob raises his hands in surrender does Edward return his sword to its place. It is several minutes before Edward returns to my side, his attention still divided. Absentmindedly kissing my hand again, he keeps his eyes on the men in the field.

He mumbles an apology. "Please forgive me for needing to deal with ... _that_."

"There is no need to apologize, My Lord. Is everything ... settled?" My voice sounds timid, unsure if I have a right to ask such a question, and my heart is still pounding.

"It seems that Sir Jacob had some preconceived notion about an arrangement. He was not too happy to learn that it is now void." Once again making eye contact with me, he smiles and changes the subject. "Will you be riding your own horse today, My Lady, or would you like to join me on my stallion?"

My eyes are wide; his question is unexpected. I did not consider that he would have me on his horse with him. "I will ride my own, My Lord, but thank you for your generous offer."

"It was not generous at all, My Lady," he says with a laugh. "It was proposed for entirely selfish reasons."

When we arrive at the stables, all the horses are saddled and ready to ride. My horse, Moondancer, is among them. I approach her and speak gently. "Hello, beautiful." I stroke her head, down to her soft nose. "May I ride you today?" Looking around, I find the basket of treats and choose a small apple. Holding my hand flat, I offer it to her. She gently takes it, and I continue to stroke her. "If you are a good girl, there will be more where that came from." I turn to see I have an audience. With his cousins standing nearby, the prince watches me from the doorway.

"You do not fear her, do you?" the prince asks as he steps closer.

"No, I do not. I respect her. I have been riding her for a very long time, and she has always taken care of me, so I try to return the favor. She has always proven herself to be steady and true."

His smile is kind, his voice low. "Yes, respect is very important in every relationship."

Looking up into the dark eyes of my horse, I find a companion on whom I have come to depend. "I trust her," I whisper.

Several moments pass in silence, but it is not uncomfortable. Prince Edward takes a deep breath before breaking that silence. "As it should be," he says softly. "If you are ready, then, My Lady, we must leave so we do not waste away the day."

"Of course."

We all mount our horses, and as Angela and I are the only women, we are the only ones riding sidesaddle. It is not my preference, but here in Adwen, it is expected of us. As we ride along the well-worn path from the stables and toward the countryside, I notice our group is fairly large and almost entirely made up of men from Galon. I am otherwise distracted when the prince rides up beside me and decides to engage me in conversation.

"So, Princess, tell me a little bit about your home."

His question is unexpected. I am not prepared to speak, as my mind has been focused on the likely topic awaiting me when we reach our destination. _My home, my home .._. "Well, Adwen is—"

"No, My Lady, your _home_. Your family; your father and sisters. I know all I need to about your kingdom. It is about the heart of your home I wish to know. I do know you lost your mother many years ago. I am sorry for that, by the way. Losing a parent must be difficult."

His words seem genuine. "Thank you, My Lord, but I do not know any other life. My mother lost her life giving me mine. I have been told it was because she birthed my sister and myself so closely together. She is less than one year older. My oldest sister, Jane, tells me quite often that I am the reason we do not have a mother. I have carried that burden my entire life."

I pause, blowing out a breath. "Let me see, my father is obviously a busy man. He is not overly affectionate, but if we have need of something, he sees to it that the need is met. I know he struggles with the plight of our people. I have spent many days speaking with them here in the castle, and even in the market, though I am powerless to help. My dear friend Angela, well, she is not only my handmaiden but also my dearest friend. She is more a sister to me than either Jane or Bree. If not for her, I may go days without speaking to another soul." I turn to look at the prince and smile ruefully at the abrupt change in the tone of our conversation. "To hear me tell, my life sounds rather boring, does it not?"

His next words are spoken softly as his eyes meet mine. "No, not boring. Perhaps unfulfilled, but not boring. It sounds as though you have led the best life with what you have been given." His gaze lingers, but all too soon, he turns his attention to our path. "Ah, I think we have almost arrived."

We have reached the edge of a meadow full of wildflowers, and it is breathtakingly beautiful.

"I have lived here all my life, and I do not remember seeing this before. How did you find it?" I take in the sight spread out before us with wide eyes, knowing, for as long as I live, I will never forget this moment.

"We came across this place on our journey to your gates. When I first laid eyes on it, I knew I wanted to share it with someone special."

I look down, feeling suddenly embarrassed, unaccustomed to being spoken to this way. I look over my shoulder, and his men have fallen back. It is just the two of us at the edge of the meadow when two men ride into it and dismount. They quickly lay out a blanket and unpack a basket of food.

"My men will eat their meal just here, while you and I enjoy what privacy we can. Does that suit you?"

"Yes, My Lord."

I offer the riders a smile as they pass, and Edward assists me in dismounting. His hands around my waist are warm and strong as he gently lowers me to my feet. He leads us to the blanket spread on the ground amongst the wildflowers and helps me to sit. I settle into position, resting on my hip with my legs curled beneath my flowing, deep red dress. He sits as well, his feet flat and knees bent. With an arm lazily resting atop his knee, he observes me, a smile on his face.

The meal is simple: bread, cheese, fruit, and wine. There is only one goblet, so I assume we are to share.

"Your Highness—"

"Isabella."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Please call me Isabella. We are alone, and I prefer to hear my given name. I hear my title everywhere I go, and I do not hear my name nearly often enough. Would that please you?"

A contented sigh passes his lips. "It would please me immensely, Isabella. But you must call me Edward in return."

"Of course, Edward." This brings a smile to both my face and his.

"Well, Isabella, I have brought you here today to ask for your hand."

"My Lord?" I am sure my expression conveys my surprise, but he is quick to press forward.

"Come now, you promised to use my name."

"Forgive me, Edward, but truly, that is not done. It is my father you must ask for my hand."

"Yes, I am aware of protocol. The arrangements have been made, and pending your answer, the betrothal will be written upon my return."

"I do not understand."

"Isabella, I was sent here with instructions from my king. As the leader of our infantry, I was ordered to conquer. I offered your father a compromise, if you will. I'm allowing him to retain his rulership for now, in exchange for the hand of one of his daughters. Adwen gets the protection of Galon, and we, once again, gain access to the ports. My father might be disappointed in my methods and means, but I am sure he will be pleased with the outcome, regardless. He gets what he wanted from the start—access to the ports—and I get what I was hoping for. The fact that Adwen had three princesses was enough to garner my attention. In fact, it was one of the reasons I encouraged my father to allow me to make the decision to engage rather than strike, if the opportunity presented itself. My father might have preferred a show of force to gain what he wanted, but if there was any chance at an alliance instead of an attack, I wanted to take it. In the end, your father agreed to my terms, and I demanded Charles hold the banquet so I could choose a bride for myself."

He silently ponders his next words, his eyes searching mine. "I watched you all, you and your sisters, as you spoke with my men and how you interacted with those around you. Isabella, you are the kind of woman I want by my side. You are beautiful but not vain. Your comments on your gown last night told me as much. You are strong and confident. The way you carried on conversations with my men, who were strangers to you, showed me you can hold your own. And you are selfless. I saw it when you offered to dance with Emmett so your sister would not have to. Just today, your remarks about your horse proved to me that you are loyal when given reason to be."

He searches my face, perhaps waiting for my reaction to his words. "Isabella, under usual circumstances, our fathers would choose who we are to marry. In a way, this is an opportunity for us to choose for ourselves. If you do not wish to wed me, then I will go back to your father and accept Jane's hand. It will be a marriage of duty to our kingdoms. I do not wish to take her as a bride, but my father has given me no choice; if I am unsuccessful in forming an alliance , then we have been ordered to conquer, take all valuables, lands, and more than likely the people as well. Adwen will become a part of Galon. Isabella, your ears are the first to hear my request. I wish for you to choose. To choose me."

I have never given much thought to what it would mean to make my own choice, but I would be remiss to say it does not spark something inside me. Something exciting.

"I do not say these things to frighten or push you; that is not my intent. In fact, I am so enamored by you that I will wed your sister just so you do not lose your home. I offer you this; become my bride. Become the Princess of Galon, and one day rule it with me. I truly believe we will grow to care for each other." He says this with a smile, and it causes me to smile in return.

"So, the decision is in my hands?"

"I do not wish to take a bride who does not want to be with me. I will accept Jane's hand, simply because it is she or some other princess of my father's choosing. One is no better than the next. Do you understand my meaning?"

"I believe so. Please forgive me. This is all so overwhelming." My eyes are focused on my hands in my lap.

"I understand." He sits quietly, patiently, as he waits for me to collect my thoughts.

"When I received your letter last night, I was shocked. I knew what it meant. I believed that today was a way for you to inform me of the betrothal, not to ask my permission. I was honestly not expecting that. May I make a request?" I finally gather enough courage to look up at him.

"Of course. I cannot guarantee it will be granted, but you may ask."

"May I bring Angela to Galon? I do not know what the custom is in your land, but she is my very dear friend, and it may make the transition easier for me. She could still be my handmaiden if it is permitted."

"Of course, Isabella. If it is something that will help you feel at home, then, by all means, bring her along. Even if that _thing_ is a friend." His smile is warm and inviting.

"Then I accept, My Lord ... Edward. I accept your proposal. I will be your bride." I feel suddenly empowered. Although my choices are limited, I smile as I realize I was able to make it for myself.

"I cannot tell you how much that pleases me." His smile matches mine. "Isabella, I have a request of my own."

"Yes?"

"May I kiss you?"

I look around, feeling my blush back in full force. All of our escorts seem to be busy with other things and involved in their own conversations. Even Angela appears to be engaged in a discussion with one of Edward's men. I look down into my lap. "I have never been kissed." Despite the fact that my voice is barely more than a whisper, he hears me.

"That pleases me immensely, Isabella." He gently grasps my chin in his hand and lifts, causing our eyes to meet. "I promise that every single new experience we share will be handled with care and gentleness." He leans in closer, only a breath away when he speaks. "May I kiss you?"

"Yes," I answer in a whisper.

It is feather-light at first, his lips barely brushing mine. I expect his beard to be rough, coarse, but it is soft against my skin. The hand under my chin moves to my cheek, gently tilting my head. His lips move against mine just a bit more forcefully. When his warm hand moves to the back of my neck, my head tilts back of its own volition, and I gasp. As my mouth opens to him, he takes full advantage and pushes his tongue inside. It is a strange but welcome sensation. I tentatively move my tongue along with his, allowing him to lead this dance, and it only seems to encourage him. Before I know it, he has laid me out beneath him, his arms surrounding me as he hovers above. It is only the laughter of his men and my dear friend calling my name in alarm that brings us to our senses.

"Isabella, I must apologize. I do not know what came over me." He helps pull me up to sit. "You are simply bewitching. You have put me under your spell. If I may be so bold, may I ask that we not have a long betrothal?"

"I'm feeling a little spellbound myself." I am still catching my breath, then I remember he asked me a question. "If we have a short betrothment, is that enough time? Do you not wish for your family to be present for the wedding?"

"I am sure they will understand." I believe there is hidden meaning behind the smile he gives me.

"Whatever you feel is best, Edward." The heat from his body still lingers on mine, and the thought once again causes heat to fill my cheeks.

Unfortunately, he notices. "That is simply beautiful." He reaches out with a single finger, tracing the neckline of my dress along the tops of my breasts. It feels sinful, and I am sure the bloom of color on my skin is only growing. "I cannot wait to see how far this blush of yours reaches." He leans in and kisses behind my ear before whispering, "I cannot wait to see everywhere it doesn't reach as well."

I am stunned silent. Foolishly, up until this moment, I have not considered the act expected of me. The marriage bed is an abstract idea, something I know of but do not have many details. I've only heard murmurings over the years about this or that. I know it is a painful, sometimes bloody act intended to bring forth children and satisfy the husband. I also know that in our kingdom, it is still witnessed by a large group of men. That thought brings all others to a halt.

As he moves to stand, I grasp Edward's arm. "Wait."

"What is it?"

"Where are we to be wed?"

"I would assume here, in Adwen. Why?"

"I have one more request. It is not about taking something with me, except perhaps my dignity. Do the nobility of Galon still take part in the bedding ceremony?" My face flames in embarrassment, burning even hotter than before. I am not sure if this is proper to discuss, but I must know.

His brows furrow in confusion. "The bedding cere— You mean they still practice that tradition here?"

"Yes, they have for generations. And I fear if we are wed here, then it will be expected."

"No, you will be the bride of a son of Galon, not of Adwen. I will speak with your father before I sign the contract. I will make every effort to protect you. You are to be my wife. I am one of the most feared warriors in all the surrounding lands, and if I cannot protect you, then I shall lay down my sword, as I will be no good to my men."

I cup his cheek and bring him closer. "Thank you. Your words bring me comfort. If no concession can be made, then I will do what I must. Just that you are willing to ask on my behalf means a great deal."

"I do not think you understand me. The moment I take you as my wife is a special, sacred moment, between the Gods and us. In Galon, the spilling of that blood is like the final vow between us. It is not to be shared with anyone else. The practice of the bedding ceremony went away many generations ago in my lands. I will speak to your father. Perhaps he is willing to negotiate." He kisses me quickly, chastely once more, before rising to his feet.

"Thank you."

"Anything for my bride. Now, we must get back if we are to arrive in time to make the announcement at the evening meal." He reaches out his hand and assists me in standing.

As we approach the men waiting alongside a curious-looking Angela, Edward cannot contain his excitement. "Men, please take a moment to look upon the promised Princess Isabella of Galon, House of Cullen. My betrothed."

I blush furiously as all the men present clap, whistle, hoot, and make all manner of noises. All the while Edward stands next to me, grinning and clapping himself.

* * *

**A/N: *sigh* I think we all swooned over this one. I know I did. ;) I'd love to hear what you thought of it! **

**There's just under a week left to submit your entries for the Crime Crusaders Contest. A few entries are posted, so go check them out! **

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**And now time for some recs!**

**Someone Else by MissLiss15 is a WIP I'm a handful of chapters behind on, but I'm anxious to get back to it. I think we can all see a little of ourselves in this Bella. Where I left off, I was definitely cheering for her!**

**Exposed by kdc2239 is one of my all-time favorites. If you like realistic, end of the world, pandemic type stories, this one is right up your alley! **

**For exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon!**

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	5. Chapter 4

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please join me in welcoming her to my insanity! Please remember, all mistakes are my own.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

We make our way back to the castle on horseback, leaving most of our escorts—save Angela and a few others—at their camp, outside its walls. I then realize that this is most likely how we will travel to Galon. The thought of traveling such a distance and sleeping in tents for many nights both scares and excites me. I do not even know how long the journey is to my new home.

"My Lord?"

"Yes, My Lady?" he asks with a smirk.

"How far is the journey to Galon? And will we be traveling with your men and sleeping in tents?"

"Yes to the tents and my men. It is far too dangerous to travel so far without them. And it will take us just a little more than a fortnight. Do you think you will be bringing much with you? More cargo may add days to our journey."

"No, I do not think so. Perhaps a trunk or two. I do not really have much. Are my clothes suitable for the weather there? Being so far north, am I to assume that it is much colder?"

"Yes, it is colder, but we will have furs to keep you warm. Some of your gowns can even be altered, lined with the softest pelts we have. My sister can assist you in deciding what you will need."

"Sister? I did not know you had a sister."

"Yes, Alice. She is married to Jasper."

"Oh, I see. Is she close to my age?"

"Yes, she is nineteen summers."

"Oh, how wonderful! I hope she and I can spend some time together."

"Well, I'm not sure how much longer she will be feeling sociable. She is heavy with child and should be delivering soon. Perhaps another moon cycle, possibly two. All I know is she was miserable when we left Galon."

This puzzles me. Should she not be secluded? If she is nearing her delivery, how would he know she is not feeling sociable? "My Lord, is she not in her seclusion?"

He shakes his head once. "No. In Galon, bringing a child into the world is a blessed event, something to proudly show. She will be among family until she decides she is ready to take to her bed. We do not hide our women when they are with child. We enjoy showing them off." He leans in to whisper. "Just as I will enjoy showing you off when the time comes."

He only laughs at my expression. I'm surprised, shocked, and a little embarrassed about what he has said. The thought strikes me—I could be a mother by this time next year.

As we reach the stables, we slow our horses. A stable boy takes the reins from my hands and leads Moondancer inside. Edward has already dismounted and is at the ready to assist me. He wraps his large hands around my waist, his fingertips nearly touching, and lifts me effortlessly from the saddle.

"Thank you for today, My Lord. It was a very special day that I will treasure, always."

"You are most welcome, My Lady. I look forward to many more days such as this. Perhaps next time, we can be alone. We can recreate that kiss and see where it leads." He brings my hand to his lips for a kiss. "Until tonight."

"Until tonight, My Lord." I curtsy, and he releases me from his grasp. I watch him walk away with his men, laughing and smiling. It is a sight to see. _He_ is a sight to behold, simply beautiful like this ... happy. I hope I am always able to bring him such joy.

Eric is there once again to escort Angela and me to my rooms so I can prepare for tonight. She dutifully and quietly follows along behind me as my thoughts drift to what I might wear. I should find out what the colors are for the House of Cullen. Perhaps I can match my gown to their banner.

When we reach my chambers, I run to my window, anxious to get a glimpse of their camp. The banners wave in the breeze, colors of green and gold.

Angela soon enters my bedchamber with a smile on her face. She walks toward me and throws her arms around me, embracing me tightly. "I am so happy for you, My Lady! This is so exciting. You will be a Princess of Galon! One day you will be a queen!"

I relish her hold, thankful I have someone with whom to share my happiness. "Thank you, Angela. Honestly, I have not given any thought to what it all means. I am so caught up in the excitement of the day and his proposal, I can only think of the wedding." I pull back and take her hands in mine. "He asked that we not have a long betrothal, though. I can only guess when we will wed."

"I am sure all of the details will soon be sorted."

"Yes," I say with a nod. "Starting with the announcement at tonight's meal. Speaking of which, I would love to show my support for my husband-to-be and his homeland. Do I own a green gown?" My eyes and smile are wide, and I am practically vibrating with excitement.

She laughs at my enthusiasm. "Perhaps, My Lady. Give me a moment to look." She releases my hands disappears into my wardrobe. "Are you going to tell me what else was said?" Her voice is muffled as she searches.

"In a moment. I want to see your face when I tell you."

"Well, watching you say your goodbyes, I can guess whatever he had to say was good. Aha! Found one! Oh, and it's beautiful."

She walks out holding a rich, green gown. A few simple adjustments need to be made, but I think we can do it. Angela is looking at me inquisitively, anticipation clear in her eyes.

"Angela, how would you feel about traveling with me to Galon?"

"My Lady? I am to go with you?" Her hopeful expression makes me smile.

"If you wish it. I will not force you to go, but it is my greatest hope that you join me. It was one of only two things I asked for, and Edward readily agreed. He wants to make me happy, Angela. He seems like such a good man. He's not at all like the savages so many believe those of Galon to be. Although his appearance may be intimidating, he has been nothing but kind to me. I truly hope we are a good match."

"I am sure God will bless you. And yes, if you will have me, I would love to come with you."

This sets off a new round of laughter, hugs, and squeals. When we finally calm, it is time to get to work. "Now, let us see what we can do with my gown. Can you find me a generous length of gold cording?"

"I think so, My Lady."

"Good. You search for that, and I will attempt to ready myself otherwise." She nods and leaves my rooms. I struggle to brush out the tangles in my hair from my earlier ride and am still battling with it when she returns. The sight causes her to giggle.

"My Lady, please allow me. I would hate for you to pull out half of your hair." She takes the brush from my hands and gets to work.

Before I know it, I'm brushed and braided, with some of the gold cording woven through my tresses. The green gown replaces my red one, and all I need to do is work on the lacing. It is an off-the-shoulder style, with long, flowing sleeves. The wide, green laces in front as well as back are soon replaced with the gold cording, and it changes the look of it almost instantly.

As I take in my reflection, I look like who I am to be, a princess of Galon. It may not be jeweled, but it is simply beautiful. I ask Angela to retrieve my gold circlet, which she places on my head.

At the knock on my door, I turn to my friend. "Angela, please see who it is. Perhaps the prince has come to escort me to the evening meal," I say excitedly.

"Yes, My Lady."

As Angela cracks the door to greet whomever is there, it bursts open, nearly knocking her over in the process. My sister, Jane, comes rushing into the room.

"How dare you! This betrothal should have been mine!" She's screeching as she marches toward me. "How did you convince him to choose you? You're nothing but a ... a mouse. I am far more beautiful, more capable of being a queen. As the oldest, I was raised for that position. What in God's name did you do to convince him to choose you?"

The whole time she is yelling at me, she is advancing. I make eye contact with Angela, hoping she can see my distress. Unfortunately, she seems to be frozen where she stands, her eyes wide and locked on my sister. Turning back to Jane, fear runs through me at the look in her eyes. She has always been unpredictable, and the murderous glare she is wearing makes me frightened of what she may do.

"I did nothing, Jane." I shake my head as I take a step back, fearful as she comes closer. "I was at the same banquet you were. He sent me a missive that night asking for my company. I had no idea what he was thinking. I assumed all night that he would choose you. That is why I relaxed and behaved as I usually do. I was not putting on a show. I was myself, and he liked what he saw. Unlike you, flaunting your wiles in every man's face. Perhaps he assumed you had already been bedded."

The resounding slap across my face stuns me. And when my shocked expression turns to my sister, her chest is heaving in anger.

"How dare you! You speak of things you have no idea about ... no knowledge of. Do you know how difficult it is to be the king's oldest daughter? The daughter who no one wants?"

Despite her vicious attack on me, I feel pity for her. She feels she missed an opportunity to make a good match. But as I move to embrace her, she goes on the offensive again. My hair is suddenly being pulled, and she quickly manages to get me on the ground. She's hitting and slapping everything she can reach.

"You took away my best chance of my own reign. I have done everything I can think of to catch the eye of every nobleman who has come through our gates for the last four years. It was my time, Isabella, my time, you mousy wench."

The slapping abruptly stops, and when I look up from my position below, I find Edward holding Jane by the arms from behind. She is up off the ground, kicking her feet, struggling to get to me.

"Enough!" His voice is loud and commanding. He places her back on her feet but does not release her. "What is going on here?"

"My Lord, Jane and I were—"

"No, Isabella, Jane will speak. It is her actions that need explaining. Is it not _your_ rooms we are in, and were _you_ not the one on the floor being pummeled?"

"Yes, My Lord. I am sorry."

"You are not the one that needs to apologize, Isabella. Jane, what do you have to say for yourself?"

She is breathing heavily, still ready for a fight. "I am sorry, My Lord. I do not know what came over me. I came to speak to my sister, and things escalated quickly."

Edward's gaze falls on me, and his voice firm yet still gentle as he speaks. "Isabella, are you injured?"

I shake my head. "No, My Lord. I do not think so."

"Now, what was this all about?"

Jane's evil glare is urging me to conjure some falsehood, to spin some story that will not put her in a bad light, but I know I need to be honest with the man before me, the man I am to marry. Lifting my eyes to Edward, I speak. "She is unhappy with the news of our betrothal, My Lord."

"How in all the Gods' names did you hear of it?" His grip on my sister tightens as he yells, anger lacing his words. "It has not yet been announced!"

"The castle has been buzzing with the news all afternoon," Jane says with barely concealed disdain.

"Be that as it may, the formal announcement has not been made. Your unprovoked attack on my betrothed was prompted by a rumor! A _rumor_!" His grip loosens and he pushes her away, causing her to stumble just a bit. He places his clenched fists at his hips and paces my chambers like an angry animal, breathing deeply as if to calm himself. Turning abruptly, he raises a pointed finger at Jane, his eyes narrowed. "You attacked her—your own sister. If she is damaged or injured in any way, you realize, as she _is_ my betrothed, it is within my rights to seek reparations from you? She is as good as a daughter of Galon now—as good as my _wife—_and as so, under my protection. Do you have any idea what I do to people who damage what is mine?"

No one speaks. All that can be heard is the labored breathing of all in the room. My heart is beating furiously as I consider what he might do to Jane.

"I am truly sorry, My Lord. I fear jealousy clouded my mind, and I could not think clearly."

"If this is all over your jealousy of your sister, then perhaps a good whipping is what you need. Like a spoiled child. Jealousy is an ugly trait to have, Your Highness. Perhaps if you spent some time thinking of and putting others first, you might find a husband. Although, I hear that the king of Rhema is looking for a bride for his son."

Jane's eyes widen at his implied threat. Everyone knows that the kingdom of Rhema is ruled with an iron fist by King Aro. He is ruthless in his warfare as well, enslaving the women of the lands they seize. She bows her head, as if in surrender. "Whatever you wish as a punishment is what I deserve. Please forgive me, My Lord."

"It is not only I you need to apologize to." His gaze is piercing.

Jane recoils under its intensity. "I am sorry, Isabella. Please forgive me. I was mad with jealousy. It will not happen again."

Edward answers for me. "No, it will not happen again. In fact, I do not see any reason for you to visit Isabella for the remainder of her time in Adwen. You will only cause her distress, and I will not have it. Now," he says turning to me, "I am leaving her punishment up to you, Isabella. Shall she be whipped for her lack of judgment? Or will the absence of her presence be enough?"

He is leaving it up to me? I cannot bring myself to impose a punishment like that upon my sister, no matter what she has done. "I do not wish for her to be punished. Please, My Lord, her absence shall be enough for me."

He nods once. "Very well. You are far more forgiving than I, Isabella. You shall make a fine, just queen someday. Jane, you are dismissed." He is waiting for her to take her leave, but she is still as a statue, staring down at me with burning hatred in her eyes.

She takes a few slow and calculated steps toward me, until she is less than an arm's length away. She leans in close, and her words are quiet, meant only for my ears. "This is not over, sister. You will regret this." And with that, she turns to leave.

Edward grabs her by the arm, turning her to look directly into her eyes. "If you step within a hundred paces of Isabella, I will not hesitate to give you twenty lashes myself. This time you wronged her. Do it again, and you will be going against my order. And I assure you, you do _not _want to do that."

She straightens her back when speaking, almost looking and sounding defiant. "Yes, My Lord." She gives me one more fiery look, and then she is gone.

Edward approaches me slowly. "Are you sure you are well? She did not harm you?"

I take inventory of my injuries. "It would appear that I will be. She did not do any lasting damage, My Lord."

"Isabella, please use my name. If you have not noticed, we are alone at the moment."

Scanning the room, I see my handmaiden must have left us when Edward arrived

"May I hold you once more before I escort you to the evening meal?" he asks.

"I would like that very much, Edward."

His smile is as warm as his embrace. "Thank you. Perhaps you need a moment to collect yourself before we are announced?" he asks. He loosens his hold on me and takes a step back.

"If you do not mind, yes." I reach up to feel the braids that have come loose during the struggle with Jane. "I think I may need Angela's assistance."

"Of course. I shall ask her to return." His kiss to my forehead is startling before he leaves to retrieve Angela. The warmth of his lips is still on my skin when she enters my chambers.

"My Lady," she says, rushing to my side. "Were you harmed? I was so frightened when Jane grabbed you." Her hands run nervously over my arms, as if to inspect me.

Gently grasping her hands, I still them. "I am well, Angela, truly. Now, do you think you could assist me in repairing the damage she did to my hair?"

"Of course, My Lady."

With that, she sets to work. It is not long before I am put back together and ready to be presented. The knock on my door alerts us that my presence is required. Opening the door, Angela curtsies as she and Prince Edward exchange a few words before he steps into my chambers.

"Are you ready, My Lady?" he asks, his arm extended.

"I am, My Lord." Placing my hand in the crook of his outstretched arm, I stand straight as we walk toward our future.

This time when I approach the banquet hall, Edward and I are announced together. Presented to my father, we greet him with a bow and curtsy. Choosing that moment to announce the betrothal, he rises from his throne, widening his arms.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court, may I have your attention? I am pleased to announce the impending union of Edward, Prince of Galon of the House of Cullen to my precious daughter, Isabella. They will be wed here in Adwen in a month's time. There will be a great feast in their honor, as well as a celebration throughout the entire kingdom. So, please, raise your glasses to help me wish them well. May your marriage be blessed and be fruitful. To Edward and Isabella."

"To Edward and Isabella." Cheers and applause are heard all over the room. Nothing can stop the smile that spreads across my face. Edward is beaming as well. Looking around, everyone is so happy for us. More than likely they are all happy to know the arrangement means that Galon will not attack, and Adwen now has hope for the future.

My smile falls as I notice the look of pure rage and hatred on the faces of my sister, Jane, and the angry knight at her side as they stand at attention across the room. A sense of dread creeps down my spine, tingling all the way to my fingertips. It is only the prince at my side and his smile that calms my anxiety. The promise I see in his eyes, one of possibilities, pushes away the dread and leaves in its place ... hope.

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**A/N: The end of this chapter brings us to the end of the events of the original one-shot. So everything from here on out will be all new to those of you who have read it. :) And I'd love to hear your theories about where this is going. **

**A giant cyber-hug to everyone who is reading, reviewing, following, and adding DoMH to their favorites! I'm so glad you all seem to be enjoying this swoony Edward. **

**And now time for some recs! The two this week happen to be by a couple friends of mine. :) **

**Dream or Reality by ceceprincess1217. If you read at work and have nosy coworkers who like to peek over your shoulder, this is NSFW for sure. This Dirty Talking E is a sexy, older, Militaryward. **

**The Road Trip by Honeymoon Edward is another WIP I need to catch up on, but it's HE, so it's a guaranteed-to-make-you-smile fic.**

**Lots of contests are in the works, so take notes! ...**

**The Crime Crusaders Contest is closed to entries, but be sure to check out the stories so you can vote for your favorites. Poll is open July 21-31. **

**TwiFandomNews is hosting the Inked Contest and is accepting entries now through September 22nd.**

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**For exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine **


	6. Chapter 5

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember, I like to tinker, so all mistakes are my own.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

When the cheers have calmed and the guests have taken their seats, Edward takes my hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss as we walk toward our table.

"You look exquisite tonight, My Lady. Is it by chance that you are wearing the colors of my home, or was it your plan? Because you have stolen my breath." I get another kiss to my hand, causing me to blush and look away from him. I am not accustomed to receiving such compliments.

"No, it is not by chance, My Lord, I chose my gown to represent my new home. I am to be the bride of a son of Galon, am I not?"

He smiles at this. "Yes, you are, Isabella. Yes, you are. Speaking of being a bride, I wish to discuss some of the details of the betrothal. Your father and I came to an agreement on many things, and I wish to share them with you. Are you agreeable?"

"Of course, My Lord. Whenever you wish to discuss matters, I will make myself available."

"Then I wish to discuss it tonight, after this impromptu celebration. May I come to your rooms? I promise to stay out of your bedchamber." He seems to know how to keep my face perpetually red. I can barely whisper a response.

"Of course."

Apparently, this amuses him, as his laughter fills my ears.

"My darling Isabella, I so enjoy teasing you. I seem to be able to turn you red with a single phrase, but I shall try not to abuse my newfound ability." With a kiss to my temple, he escorts me to the banquet table. It is once again spread with our finest foods, and there is also mead being poured all around.

He helps me to sit by first pulling out my chair, then holding my hand as I lower myself into my seat. My place at the table is directly next to my father, with Edward to my other side. Father has not spoken to me directly for many days, so his gruff voice startles me.

"Isabella, I do hope you are pleased with this arrangement. I did my best to see that you would be cared for. Galon will be a good home. I am sure of it."

"Yes, Father, thank you." I pause, unsure what else to say. I turn my head just slightly, but I still do not meet his eyes. "I am honored that I was chosen for this duty to our people. I will do my very best to make you proud." My words feel as empty as his sounded. He knows he had no choice but to agree to the betrothal, yet he tries to make it sound as if it were his decision to send me there. And I know that the only pride he may feel will come from the act of forming an alliance with another kingdom, to save us from a war.

Nothing else I ever do in this world will bring him pride. Even if I birth a dozen male children, they will be for the land of Galon, heirs to their throne. I will not contribute to the strategy or any other matters of state, as I am a woman and have no voice. I am simply a bargaining chip to my father and King Carlisle. My marriage is a way to settle a dispute ... a means to an end. Something my father must have done almost brought war to our gates. Perhaps one day, I will find out what it was.

My attention is drawn to the rest of our guests. They are jovial tonight, celebrating a union with a kingdom which can offer protection when we need it and resources so our people will not starve this winter. It brings a smile to my face to see our people so happy, knowing that I may have contributed to their happiness. It is Edward that brings me out of my musing.

"What has brought that beautiful smile to your face, My Lady?"

"I was just thinking of the joy our union is bringing the people, My Lord."

"And this is why I chose you. You are thinking of the happiness of others. You are truly a treasure." He kisses my hand once again, causing me to look down in embarrassment. "Will you do me the honor of a dance, My Lady? We did not get that privilege last night."

"Of course, My Lord."

For a large man, he is incredibly graceful as he guides me on the dance floor. Without my previous distractions, I can now see how imposing he truly is. The top of my head does not reach his very broad shoulders. His biceps are quite big as well, as if he could lift a tree trunk over his head. Dressed in his furs and leathers, he appears utterly intimidating, but the man I have spent time with is anything but. I do not doubt his status as a fierce warrior, but he has shown me a gentler side. I do hope that is the side that I might come to know and care for.

The entire evening, each time I glance in Jane's direction, she is looking at me as if to burn me with her gaze. I do not know if I should approach her or leave her to stew in her bitterness.

"What has you distressed, Isabella?"

"My Lord?"

"You appear troubled. What is wrong?"

"My sister, My Lord. Jane seems rather ... upset, and she's doing nothing to hide it. She has been staring daggers at me all night."

"Do not trouble yourself with it. She is merely upset that her younger, far more beautiful sister was chosen over her." He kisses my exposed shoulder. His nose skims a trail up my neck, and he places a feather-light kiss just below my ear. His whisper is deep and rich in its timbre, his warm breath washing over my skin. "It is called jealousy, my dear, and it is a dreadful thing to see on a woman." With that he places one final kiss to my neck before removing his lips altogether. "Do not allow her sour mood to affect your night."

I flush at the feel of his lips upon my skin. "Of course not, My Lord," I murmur. My eyes dart around the room to see if anyone noticed our exchange. Perhaps things are different in Galon, and he does not know it is improper to behave so brazenly in public.

It is not long before my father's courtesan, Susan, takes a seat next to my father at the table. I stiffen in Edward's arms. "Must she show herself here on tonight of all nights?"

"Who?"

"My father's bed warmer. She is not my mother, so she should not be here for this." I try to ignore their obvious displays of affection. It is difficult, however, when she is practically sitting upon his lap.

"Ah, yes, the infamous Susan of Thornbridge." He turns his gaze to my father and the woman keeping his attention. "I have heard many things about her over the years. The rumor is she complains at court that King Charles will not marry her. From what is told, he says he loved your mother so much that he wants no question about with whom his soul will join in the afterlife. He says he will never again take a wife." He looks down upon me. "I should hope we grow to care for each other as deeply."

His words warm my heart and cause a not unpleasant feeling in my stomach. I offer him a smile. "As do I."

We continue making our circuit around the dance floor, and as I take in my father and those surrounding him, I cannot help but wonder what will happen after I leave.

"What will happen to Adwen when my father passes? Father has no male heir." I look up into his eyes and find reservation.

"That is the question, is it not? We shall discuss that when we have a moment of privacy."

Realizing this is not the place to have such a conversation, I nod in agreement.

The evening is spent dancing, eating and drinking. I am able to speak again with Edward's cousins, and they are both just as delightful as they were last night. His knights are certainly a boisterous bunch, but they seem friendly enough. The wine quickly goes to my head, so I inform Edward that I am spent for the evening and going to my rooms. He says he'll be along soon and to wait for him.

Angela assists me in changing into a simpler gown and brushing out my hair. As we finish up, there is a knock at my outer door.

I step into my sitting room and inhale a deep breath to calm myself. While I no longer fear Edward, I still feel nervous in his presence. But I also feel excited to be able to share a private moment with him.

I smooth my hands over my dress and stand straight. "Enter."

Edward walks in, and he fills the room with his presence. He takes a moment to look around, and I feel as if he is looking for something. Perhaps he is taking in details that tell of me. When his eyes find mine, he smiles.

He bows to me in greeting. "My Lady. I feel I must tell you that your father does not know I am meeting you tonight. Do you wish for your handmaiden to stay, or do you trust me to protect your virtue?" He has a mischievous glint in his eye.

"_Can_ I trust you, My Lord?"

His expression is now a serious one. "Always, Isabella."

I nod in acquiescence before turning to my friend. "Angela, please see to it that my bed has been warmed. Please do not disturb us. I will call for you when you are needed. Thank you." With a nod of my head, I dismiss her.

Angela hesitates only a moment before offering a quick curtsy and leaving us. The room is suddenly filled with some kind of charge, a hum, as if a single spark could light a blaze.

"You have changed out of your gown." His expression changes to one of disappointment before mischief lights his eyes. "However, you look equally lovely in this." He touches the edge of my sleeve. It is a plain dress, something I would wear if I were just staying in my rooms all day. The two thin linen layers drape over my every curve and are all that separate his eyes from my flesh. His gaze roams my body, and I feel warm all over. "I believe that you would look lovely in a grain sack." His eyes flash to mine before returning to watch his fingertips dance upon the bare skin of my wrist. "But perhaps I am biased," he whispers. His touch ghosts up my arm to the curve of my neck, down the column of my throat before moving on to the edge of my gown that rests over my bosom.

My heart pounds, and I feel the need to redirect his attention before his actions get out of hand. I clear my throat and step just out of his reach. "I believe you may be. Now, shall we discuss what brought you here tonight?"

His hand flexes at his side as he clears his own throat. "Right. Going straight to the matter at hand, Princess?" He sighs. "Yes, I guess you are right." He moves to the armchair near the fire, and I take a seat on the settee, keeping some distance between us. "As you heard, we are to be wed in a month's time. Is that agreeable with you?"

"Of course, Edward."

He smiles, possibly at my use of his name, or maybe at the mention of our marriage in a mere month. But concern soon replaces his smile. "And the timing is good? The journey to your new home will not be a hardship?"

"My Lord? I do not get your meaning. What would be a hardship? I know I have never travelled outside of my kingdom, so perhaps I will tire easily, but I see no reason to believe it will be a hardship."

He briefly closes his eyes and groans, huffing out a breath. He is seemingly frustrated, but when his eyes meet mine, I find only patience. "Isabella, I am trying to delicately ask about your courses. I don't wish for you to be uncomfortable while we travel, and that is saying nothing about our wedding night. I would rather take you to my bed without that concern."

My face blazes, and my eyes are now focused on the floor. When I speak, my voice is so low, I am not sure he can even hear me. "No, My Lord, that will not be a concern. If we are to marry in a month's time, it will not be a concern on our wedding night. Some months it is not a concern at all. Many say it is because our harvests have been so poor in recent years, and we do not have enough to eat. Even so, it likely will not return until after we arrive in Galon."

"Just another way your father has failed you," he says, his voice so soft, I am unsure I am meant to hear it. He rises from his chair and approaches me. He grasps my chin, gently urging me to look up at him. "Be that as it may, but Gods willing, once we are wed, you may not be bothered with it for a very long time. Perhaps my seed will find purchase on our wedding night, and we will be blessed with a child. Would that please you?"

I answer in a whisper. "Of course, My Lord."

He takes a seat next to me, pulling me closer to his side. "I also spoke to your father concerning the bedding ceremony." He heaves a heavy sigh. "You could say it was a tense negotiation. He was adamant at first. The problem he has is his lack of a male heir."

I look at him, confused. "I do not understand why one concerns the other."

"Because of his lack of an heir, upon his death, the throne would go to his oldest child, which would be your sister Jane. He is fearful Adwen would be vulnerable to being overthrown, due to a lack of confidence in its leadership. But I was able to offer a suggestion that might ensure the long-term protection of his kingdom."

I look to him with questioning eyes. "How so?"

"Honestly, I believe his greatest fear is Adwen falling into the hands of Rhema. They are ruthless in their conquests. They would likely tear apart Adwen, leaving it and its people in ruins. He tells me he is hopeful he will be able to marry off your sisters to gain more allies once news of our alliance reaches other lands. If he is able to do so, my suggestion was to add a clause to the marriage contract."

"Which was?"

"If his daughters have all married well, joined with a prince or other nobleman, the first to birth a son would take Adwen for their new kingdom. He insists that because he is basically giving away his throne to another land upon the birth of a son, he has the right to have the bedding ceremony."

Taking a moment to digest this news, I think about what it would mean. I could one day rule over what was once Adwen. This thought thrills me, but then I remember the conditions. My heart plummets. The private, sacred moment I had hoped for with my husband is not to be. "Thank you for your efforts. I am sure it will be fine." I sound dejected, even to my own ears.

"Isabella, I said we negotiated. All is not lost. I was able to get _some_ of what I wanted."

My head snaps up, and I look hopefully into his eyes. "Father was willing to agree to your terms?"

"In a way, yes, and in a way, no. We are to consummate our union in the queen's chambers. The curtains will be drawn around the bed, but there will be witnesses."

My stomach churns with this news and my eyes fill with tears. My gaze once again drops to the floor. He grasps my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"Normally, there would be nearly a dozen there to witness. I have negotiated it down to two of your father's men and one of my own. Along with my cousin Jasper, your father's bishop will be present, as well as a chosen member of your father's inner circle. I have asked that Charles not witness it himself. They will not see anything, Isabella. When the act is complete, they will leave. The bedding can then be inspected when we move to another set of rooms."

I nod my head, knowing that this is the best he could do. "Thank you, Edward. I know my father can be an obstinate man, so I am aware of the effort it took to change his mind."

"Now, I have another question for you. Where do you wish to spend the remainder of our wedding night? Do you wish to return here, to your bedchamber? Or do you wish to join me in my tent, in the camp outside the castle gates?"

The question both surprises and amuses me. "Does it not get cold out there? You wish to spend our wedding night in a tent?" Saying it out loud causes me to giggle.

"If you wish. If not, we can return here. Though I do like the thought of having my wife in my own bed." He has that mischievous look about him again.

I smile shyly and shake my head. "I rather like the idea of sharing your tent. I will have to warm to the idea soon enough. We will be spending several nights in it, will we not?"

He nods. "We will. Let me assure you, it may not be what you are accustomed to, but it is quite comfortable. And I am sure we will be more than warm."

"Then I look forward to it, My Lord."

Moving closer, he wraps his other arm around me and embraces me. His close proximity is making me anxious, fearful of where our meeting may lead, so as his head tilts, his mouth nearing mine, I turn my cheek to him. He pauses, but only for a moment, and his kiss is diverted to my neck, just below my ear. The swirling feeling of excitement low in my belly returns as his lips touch the sensitive flesh.

With what sounds like a growl, he bathes the skin of my neck in the warmth of his exhale as he speaks lowly into my ear. "I am looking forward to it as well." He lingers, his lips just a hairsbreadth away. I close my eyes and revel in the feeling, but all too soon, his warmth is gone. Regretfully—judging by his huff—he stands. "I should probably be on my way. It has grown late, and there is much to do in the coming days. I do need you to make known what belongings you wish to bring with you to Galon. We will need to make arrangements for transporting them."

I nod my head. "Of course. It should not be much, perhaps a trunk or two, but, Edward, may I bring Moondancer as well? She has been a good horse, and I would like to have her with me."

He smiles. "Absolutely. It is a reasonable request, and one I had anticipated. Do you plan to ride during our journey?" He steps closer and kneels before me, taking my hand in his. "I had hoped that you would join me in my saddle. I would much rather have you in my arms."

I drop my gaze to our joined hands resting upon my lap, my cheeks heating in their nearly perpetual state of blush. "Perhaps for some of the journey," I say softly, chancing a glance up at him. "And perhaps Moondancer will allow Angela to ride her when I do. I would like nothing more than to be in your arms for at least some of the journey. The thought of traveling so far and for so long is daunting, so the safety of being in them may lessen some of my fears."

"Nothing would please me more, but we will discuss it more when the time comes." He places a chaste kiss upon my forehead and releases my hands, once again rising to his feet. "If I do not go soon, I think I shall never leave. I will see you tomorrow then, but likely not until midday. Your father and I still have many things to discuss, and I am to meet him in the morning. So, I bid you goodnight." He reaches for my hand and leaves yet another kiss upon my knuckles.

"Goodnight, Edward. I shall see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Isabella."

Sleep does not come easily on this night, but it finally claims me just before the sun dawns. It is restless and over too soon, as the seamstress is at my door before midday. She brings with her the gown I am to wear when I wed the man who is slowly taking up residence in my heart.

* * *

**A/N: One step closer to the wedding! I've had a couple of questions and concerns about this bedding ceremony business, but all I'll say is, you'll just have to keep reading to find out. ;) **

**A giant cyber-hug to everyone who is reading, reviewing, following, and adding DoMH to their favorites! I'm so glad you all seem to be enjoying this Edward. He's still pretty swoon-worthy. **

**And now time for some recs!**

**Days Like This by SoftRagoo is one of my go-to feel-good fics. It's a single Momella, a Doctorward, and their seeet, little Sunshine. This one gives me all the feels. *sigh* **

**A Dirty Lion by FyreByrd is a WIP that came from the Commander in Chief contest. If you're into Motorcycle Club stories, you can't miss this one. All I can say is ... *whew* Is it hot in here, or is it just me? Oh, and it just updated today. ;) **

**Some of you might remember the fundraiser, Babies at the Border fic compilation, from last year. Well, it's getting a round two, and many of your favorite authors (70, I believe, at last count) have signed up again to contribute, including yours truly. The Facebook group from last year is still active, as well as a website for this year's reboot if you'd like to check it out. Visit the FB group, or go to batbcomp dot blogspot dot com for more details about how you can help and/or donate. **

**For exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine **


	7. Chapter 6

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. This one endured quite a bit of tinkering, so please remember, all mistakes are my own.**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The gown being made for me is exquisite and unlike anything I have ever seen. It is a gift from Edward and indescribable in its beauty. The fitted bodice is embellished with swirling embroidery. The intricate stitches resemble a delicate bird with its wings emanating from its regal torso, spanning across my bosom, while the flowing tail flares out before trailing down to a prominent point just below my navel. Its wide neckline rests just at my shoulders, leaving them almost completely exposed, while the billowing fabric flows well past my hands. There is a belted sash at my hips, long enough to touch the floor, matching the length of the skirt, which flows into a train. The most unique thing about it is its color. The bodice and sleeves are a deep gold, but it morphs into a bronze, orange shade, to red, finally ending at the bottom a beautiful, rich purple.

Edward brought it here in secret, unbeknownst to his father, in hopes of dressing a new princess in it, and I am happy that it will be put to good use. As it was unknown what size princess would wear the gown, it needs minor alterations, but not many.

"All right, Your Highness, I think that should do it. I only need to let out the bodice a bit at the bosom, take it in at the waist, and shorten the length a bit. I will have it ready in two days' time. Is that agreeable?"

"Yes, of course. I am sure it will be a perfect fit. You have always done a splendid job. Thank you, Mary."

The days leading up to the wedding are a blur as we finalize details of the feast as well as the ceremony. After much discussion on what kind it will be, it is finally decided that we will blend the vows of a traditional Galon wedding ceremony with those of one of Adwen. It will be performed by the Galon priest, Elder Afton, who has traveled here with them.

In an attempt to learn more about each other, Edward and I make time each day to speak. The situation in which we find ourselves is a unique one. Not many people of royal birth have the opportunity to form the foundation of a relationship, to get to know one another before they wed, so we are taking full advantage.

Today we are in the inner courtyard, seated side by side on a stone bench. Angela looks on from her place in a nearby herb garden as she selects stems of fresh lavender for my chambers. Her covert glances in our direction assure me we have our required chaperone, but she is blessedly giving us the privacy we need for this conversation.

"How is it you have not taken a wife before now?"

He smiles ruefully, looking down. "Well, I was actually betrothed at one time."

My eyes widen. "You were to be wed? To whom? What happened?"

He lifts his eyes to mine. The corner of his mouth turns up in a grin, and he raises a single brow. "Eager to hear the scandal?"

"No, I am sorry." I hang my head in embarrassment, shaking it once. "Please forgive me for being so impetuous. I should not have—"

"It's fine, Isabella. It really _was_ quite the scandal back then. I am sure people speak of it to this day, which is why you need to know. I would be quite angry if you heard of it from anyone else." He shifts to face me. "I was betrothed to Princess Tanya of Rhema."

"Rhema? Why would your father want to align your kingdom with them? I have heard tales of their ... brutality ... their ruthlessness."

"What? You do not think my men and I can be ruthless?"

"Oh, I am sure you can, but ... I have heard horrible stories about the Rheman army."

He nods in agreement. "Yes, which is why my father thought it wise to join our kingdoms. He thought one day our great armies would be able to conquer any and all who would stand in our way."

"Then what happened? Why are you not wed to Tanya?"

"When we arrived in Rhema for the wedding, the _virtuous_ princess was discovered to be with child."

I cannot contain my gasp. "With child? But ... how?" Edward raises a brow, as if to ask whether he need explain. My cheeks warm as I realize what I have asked. "Well, I know _how_," I whisper.

"Yes, well"—he clears his throat—"needless to say, once her condition was discovered, my father threatened war for their breaking of the contract. And for the last nearly five years, the battles we have always had over territories and lands have only become more frequent." He turns to me and smiles. "And my father has been trying since that day to find a suitable replacement bride."

"A replacement," I repeat softly, a bit unsure of myself. Pondering his words, I wonder if he, in any way, sees me as a replacement. My stomach turns at the thought.

"He considered making a match with all the surrounding kingdoms, but none had anything he truly wanted. He saw no advantage to joining with any of them."

"Until Adwen."

"Until Adwen," he agrees with a nod.

"But you came to our gates threatening war. How am I to believe my hand, or the hand of either of my sisters, was the goal of your coming to Adwen? Every kingdom from the sea to the mountains and beyond knew of Charles' three unwed daughters. Why now?"

"Isabella, it is not a pleasant thing to share with you, but I do not want to have any secrets between us." He shifts uncomfortably before reaching for my hand, his thumb running over my knuckles as he continues. "Galon never had a strategic reason to align with Adwen. They did not have anything we needed. My father wanted to gain something with my union. The subject of my failed arrangement came up quite often at court, and Jane was mentioned a time or two, but my father always dismissed it. There was talk that the reason that you, along with your sisters, had not been married off is that no one wanted to form an alliance with your father."

He appears uncomfortable sharing this news, so I gently squeeze his hand, hoping to encourage him.

"Your father has mismanaged his kingdom, Isabella. Untold numbers of your people starved last year because many of your crops failed, and what you did grow was not distributed properly. And while it was terrible, it did not affect Galon directly, so my father felt no need to act. But when he closed access to the ports and began charging exorbitant taxes to pass through, it got our attention. Because of the taxes, people were bypassing your ports altogether in favor of ports farther to the south. The only reason Galon warriors knocked down your gates is because we refused to pay the ludicrous tax, so we had no access to your ports. With our marriage, Galon gets access to the ports, and Adwen receives our assistance and protection. Rhema has been waiting for Adwen to become weak, and I do not doubt they were planning to attack by year's end. Without the alliance, Adwen would surely have fallen to Rhema. King Aro controlling the ports would have had far-reaching effects for many years to come."

His tale is sobering. The thought of being overtaken by the strong army of Rhema makes me ill. I have heard terrible things about what they do to the lands they invade. And to think we may have lost our home, even our very lives, because of my father's actions, I am outraged.

"How long was my father going to wait to act? Why would he not reach out for help? Galon was there, just to the north. Why would he not ask for assistance? Was it his selfish pride?" Angry thoughts swirl around my head.

"I do not know, Isabella. Perhaps he thought circumstances would change or improve. It is also quite possible his ego got in the way. I know many kings who have allowed pride and arrogance to cloud their judgment. We may never know what his reasons were."

We sit in silence as I absorb all he has said. Knowing it is useless to dwell on past decisions made by others, I use our conversation to get to know a little more about the man beside me. "And what kind of ruler do you think you will be?" I ask softly. "Will you allow pride and arrogance to influence your decisions? Will you rule as your father has, putting strategy and political gain above all else? I have heard many say King Carlisle is ruthless in his own right."

Edward's jaw tightens as he draws in a deep breath. "I would like to think I will be more reasonable than my father has been. I think mercy and compassion are fine qualities in a king. We do not see eye to eye on many things. This trip to Adwen is an example. His first impulse was to order me to simply seize the castle and usurp the throne from your father, kill him even. It was only when I reminded him of Adwen's three princesses that he reconsidered and allowed me to decide how to proceed. To my father, you are merely a means to an end. A way for Galon to gain more power. It was his idea for me to suggest the ... _unorthodox_ succession clause to your father. To King Carlisle, the acquisition of an heir, and therefore the lands of Adwen, are his main concern. So, do not be surprised if he banishes us to our rooms until you are with child."

The thought of creating a new life with this man brings butterflies to my belly. I have only just met him, and yet I already cannot see my future without him. In a world of arranged marriages and loveless matches, I feel truly blessed. If I am to trust his words and actions, he seems to genuinely care for me, at least a little.

"Isabella, my father may have spent years searching for a bride to replace the Rheman girl, but _I_ chose you because I truly believe that we are a good match. I was not jesting when I said that you will rule by my side. I am counting on your influence to guide me when I need counsel from someone not looking to further her own agenda. My father has chosen to disregard my mother's opinions and relies completely on his advisers. He leads with his head, not his heart. And while it bodes well for him strategically, he has also made many enemies along the way. My hope is to lead with both my head _and_ my heart. Will you help me do that?"

"Of course, My Lord," I say with a shy smile. All of my previous worries of being merely a replacement are gone with his reassurance.

"Then tomorrow we shall begin our life together. Is everything prepared for the wedding?"

"Yes. We finished the final alterations on my gown just yesterday."

"When I saw the fabric at our market, I knew it would make a fine gown for my bride. Its colors remind me of the beautiful sunsets in my homeland. Did I tell you my sister was the one to stitch that gown with her own two hands?"

"No, you never told me who made it."

He nods his head once, a smile upon his face. "She was so hopeful I would find a woman worthy enough to wear it." He pauses, his eyes searching mine. "And I did," he says softly. "I am sure it will look exquisite on you."

"Thank you, Edward. It is by far the most beautiful gown I have ever laid my eyes upon. It will be an honor to wear it knowing it was made with such care by someone you love."

"And I cannot wait to lay my eyes on _you_ wearing it. I am sure you will be a vision."

His gaze is intense, so intense that I shyly lower my head and attempt to change the subject. "The food for the feast is already being prepared as well. It shall be quite a celebration."

"I am sure it will be. But the wedding feast is the last thing on my mind." He leans closer, and his wicked smirk disappears from sight as the rough softness of his beard brushes against my neck, his lips and warm breath ghosting across my skin. "I cannot wait to feast on you." The low timbre of his voice combined with the softness of his lips upon my skin cause me to gasp.

A new, unfamiliar tingling reaches places on my body which are yet undiscovered, and it is exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. "Edward, please." My whispered plea is met with a groan. "Someone may see." I try to put distance between us, but he pulls me closer still.

"Let them see. You are to be my wife before sunset tomorrow."

I allow him another moment of impropriety before I object once more. "But I am not yet," I whisper.

With another groan, he reluctantly pulls away. His piercing green eyes meet mine, and the intensity I find there pins me in place. "It is nearly impossible to do so, knowing you are so close to being mine, but you are right. I do need to stop." He nods once and blows out a breath. "So, I shall leave you for the last time, for tomorrow night I shall have you all to myself."

Heat rises in my cheeks at his mention of tomorrow night.

He chuckles and reaches past me, plucking a bloom from a nearby vine and tucking it behind my ear. "I will be waiting for you at the altar." Lifting my hand to his lips, he places the softest of kisses upon my knuckles. "Goodnight, Isabella."

"Goodnight, Edward," I whisper, his mere presence once again leaving me spellbound.

He rises to his feet to leave, and I am surprised at how dejected I feel as he does so. I watch him walk away and bid a good evening to Angela as she walks toward me, knowing that tomorrow will usher me toward a new life.

Once we return to my chambers, Angela helps me prepare for bed, and we stay up late into the night talking about our upcoming journey to our new home. She seems as excited as I am to be leaving Adwen. I am sure the prospect of starting a new life in Galon along with me is a bit daunting, but she says she is looking forward to it. As she is brushing out my hair, I tease that she may find love in a new land. When she does not reply, I ask what is wrong.

"Nothing, My Lady. I ..."

When she hesitates, I turn to look at her. "What is it, Angela?"

Her eyes are downcast as she begins. "I have been spending some time with one of the men from Galon. His name is Benjamin. I met him in the market several days after they arrived, and we have been meeting on occasion to talk." She raises her head a bit, and when she finds an encouraging smile, happiness colors her features. "Oh, Isabella, he is so kind. When I told him I would be joining you, his eyes lit up and he asked if I would allow him to inquire with you about courting me!"

She can barely contain her excitement by the time she is finished. I turn around and wrap her in a hug. "Oh, Angela, I am so very happy for you. All he need do is ask Edward, I would think, but I have no objections. This is so very exciting!" We are both giggling with happiness. "It would appear we both have bright futures ahead of us. I was so worried that you would be unhappy leaving your life here."

"No, I do not have anything holding me here. My parents have both passed on, and I do not spend much time with anyone but you. A new life in Galon is more than I could have ever hoped for." She gives me a final squeeze before releasing me. "Now, you must get your rest. You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow, and I am sure an even busier night."

I pull away and hide my face in my hands. "Angela, I am so nervous about the wedding night." I peek at her through my fingers before removing my hands completely. "I do not have a mother to ask questions of, and the sister that I believe could answer those questions despises me. Even if I thought he would speak of such things, I would not dare ask my father. I do not feel comfortable asking any of the servants. What am I to do?" I look at her with pleading eyes. "I have only heard quiet murmurings over the years about the marriage bed, and I do not know what is true and what is false, or what may be exaggerated. What am I to do?"

"I am sorry I cannot be of any help. If only Queen Esme had made the journey, you could have spoken to her. Would you like me to ask the midwife if she can speak to you?"

"No, I do not need rumors to spread that the midwife came to visit me just before I wed," I say with a resolute shake of my head. "No, I shall just have to put my trust in Edward. I am sure he will guide me."

"Do you believe that he"—her voice drops to a whisper—"knows about such things?"

"Angela, he is a prince of four and twenty years. I am sure he is more than knowledgeable. You have looked at the man, have you not? I am sure he has women from here to Galon and beyond willing to warm his bed." It is unsettling to know that it is expected for a woman to save her body for her husband alone, yet men are encouraged to experience what they wish before marriage, or even after. But it is the way of things.

I tell myself that I am fortunate in the fact that I have come to know the man I am to wed, that we have had time to speak and learn more about one another. I have actually come to care a great deal for him. Many brides of my station meet their intended at the altar. Ours is a most strange situation to say the least, but I am thankful, nonetheless.

Once I am dressed for bed, I am able to fall into a restful sleep. Visions of my new home fill my dreams; visions of green, of lush forests and billowing banners, are everywhere I look. As I slumber, I bask in warm days and golden sunsets, and those days are followed by cold nights. In my dreams, I am loved, held tightly by strong and careful arms. There is laughter, and there is joy. I dream of children, boys and girls with beautiful bronze hair and bright green eyes. We are surrounded by happiness. And it is with a smile upon my face that I wake the next morning.

My wedding day.

Angela brings me a warm and filling breakfast. It is much more than I am used to, but everyone encourages me to have my fill. I am told I will not eat until the wedding feast much later today, and I would do well not to faint at the altar. As I eat, she works with the servants to fill my bath. When I finally clean my plate, Angela helps me to bathe, washing, scrubbing, polishing all that we can. Scented oils are added to the water, and it is heavenly, but I do not linger too long.

My body is dried, and my hair is brushed as I sit by the fire, so as to dry it faster. When she deems it dry enough, she begins to work. It is by far the most intricate braiding she has ever done. She weaves ribbons and pearls all throughout, and I already know it will be amazing. And when she is done, it is exquisite. It is wide and thick, but still falling more than halfway down my back.

"It looks wonderful, Angela. Thank you." I pull her in close and wrap her in an embrace.

"I would do anything to make this day more special for you, My Lady." The emotion is thick in her voice.

"I know you would. And I thank you for that." I release her and hold her at arm's length. "I am so happy you have chosen to join me. You have been my very best friend for a very long time."

Her eyes shine with happy tears as she smiles. "You know I feel the same, My Lady. But enough of this. You have a wedding to dress for!" She discreetly wipes her eyes and goes to retrieve my gown.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I almost do not recognize myself. I have never thought of myself as beautiful, but today I feel that I am. I feel worthy to stand next to Edward as his wife, as his princess ... as his future queen.

Angela places the veil over my head, securing it with my gold circlet. The veil is a long piece of sheer material that is not white, yet not ivory, and it is so long it falls well past my elbows. She makes sure all is in order and deems I am ready.

"You look beautiful, My Lady." She looks as though she will cry.

"Thank you, Angela." I fight the urge to shed a tear myself. "Now," I inhale deeply and blow it out, "I believe we have a wedding to attend."

Angela leads me to the door, opening it to find my father waiting for me.

"You look lovely, Isabella. Are you ready?"

"Thank you, Father. And yes, I am." While our interactions over the years have always been brief, this may be the shortest yet, and perhaps one of the last. It is a bittersweet moment, and I commit it to memory. "Please lead the way."

We walk through the corridors, followed by his guards. We do not exchange any more words. It seems neither of us has anything to say. I wonder what is going through his mind. The only thing I am certain of is that I am thankful for the troubling circumstances in which my father found himself, because they led me to Edward. I do believe I could have not asked for a better match.

Father leads me through the door and out into the light. Just outside the keep, across the courtyard, lays the church. Larger than the chapel inside the castle, it is big enough to hold our many wedding guests. Side by side, in an uneasy silence, we walk toward the sanctuary.

I know it is full of people anxious to witness the joining of our two kingdoms, which may very well be the salvation of Adwen. There are Lords and Ladies who are here visiting at court, as well as invited knights and men who traveled with Edward from Galon. I was told that Jane is would be in attendance, but she has so far had an invisible presence.

As we approach the door, the music begins to play, and the voices inside quiet. The small village boy chosen to carry our rings enters, and when the music changes, I know it is time. I take a deep breath and take my first step toward my future.

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**A/N: The wedding bells are ringing, figuratively, of course. ;) The 'I do's' are next chapter. And if you're in my Sunshine Fics group on Facebook, this week's chapter pic includes Isabella's wedding dress. Stop by and take a peek!**

**And now time for some recs! This week, I've got two vamp fics to recommend. I'm usually an AH reader, but every once in a while, a vamp fic catches my attention. **

**By Way of Sorrow by jaxington is a completed story that I devoured last week. Here's the summary ... Bella Cullen has spent the last ninety-five years giving everything to protect her family and mourning the loss of her long dead human husband. A trip to Alaska to meet Tanya's latest romantic interest changes everything. The vampire she meets there has his face, his hair, and his body, but not his memories. It's a strange new world.**

**This week's WIP rec is Wander No More by AgoodWITCH. Short chapters and an intriguing AU. The world she's building is different from the usual, and I'm hooked! Here's the summary ... History is written by the victors, but lore is written by the fearful. The Great Battle between humans and vampires is centuries in the past, and all the Wanderers have are their stories. When Bella, a young Wanderer is chosen to be the next queen of the vampires, she must choose her mate and king and try to navigate a world so different from the stories she knew.**

**I hope you'll check out both of these! **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	8. Chapter 7

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. This one endured quite a bit of tinkering, so please remember, all mistakes are my own.**

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**Chapter 7**

Taking the first step through the doors, I look straight ahead to the front of the church and ignore all those standing in attention. Waiting at the front with his back to me is my future husband. He is dressed in all black; whether it is of leather or cloth, I do not know. With his sword sheathed in its scabbard at his waist and his shoulders broad, he is an imposing, magnificent presence.

Step by step I come closer, and with each of my strides, my nervousness lessens. My father leads me up the aisle, and as the soft music comes to a close, we stop just a few paces from the altar ... and Edward. My fingertips tingle with the urge to touch him. When I take the final step to his side, Edward turns just slightly and offers me a warm smile before turning his attention back to the priest.

In that brief moment, seeing his eyes lit with happiness, I am completely at ease. Even when Elder Afton begins to speak, I do not cower. I do not feel unworthy of my newfound position. Edward has chosen me, and I hold my head high as he begins.

"We are gathered here today to join together His Royal Highness Prince Edward Anthony and Her Royal Highness Isabella Renee, sanctifying their union in the eyes of the God of Adwen and the Gods of Galon. It will join together two kingdoms, bringing prosperity and security to all of their subjects. Does anyone here have any reason why these two should not be joined together?"

The priest waits for a bit longer than I feel comfortable. A voice in my head prays that Jane has not found some ridiculous reason to speak. The typical sounds of a group this size—the sniffles and coughs and the shifting of fabric as Ladies move in their gowns—echo off the stone walls in the otherwise silent church. But there is no outcry to stop the ceremony, so the priest continues.

"Who gives this woman to this man?"

"I do."

And with those two small words, my father releases me from the bonds holding me to Adwen. King Charles takes his seat, and my soon-to-be husband and I stand side by side facing the priest. I can see Edward from the corner of my eye, trying to covertly get a look at me. Even with my limited view of him, I know we are both smiling. Swallowing the urge to turn completely and face him, I attempt to focus on the priest and the start of the ceremony.

It is hard to concentrate on the words. Edward's close proximity—knowing he will soon be my husband—is all-consuming.

"Princess Isabella, daughter of King Charles of Adwen, of the house of Swan, do you take Prince Edward, son of King Carlisle of Galon, of the house of Cullen, heir to the throne of Galon, for your husband?"

I respond with a smile, "I do."

"And do you, Prince Edward, son of King Carlisle of Galon, of the house of Cullen, heir to the throne of Galon, take Princess Isabella, daughter of King Charles of Adwen, of the house of Swan, for your wife?"

"I do." His smile is evident in his voice.

When we are asked to say our vows, we turn to one another and grasp hands. Mine are small and tremble in his. The words spoken are of our own choosing, as unique as our situation. As our union is less than traditional, so are the words we chose to promise to one another.

And I am the one to begin.

"I stand before God and all these witnesses and freely give myself to you. I shall be your shelter in your times of trial. I shall be a source of comfort in your times of need. I pledge my devotion and all that I have to you for the rest of my days. I am yours, and you are mine. This is my wedding vow to you, Edward."

His smile is blinding, and I am sure I have one to match. I retrieve Edward's ring. It is gold, large, and masculine, with an oval, blood-red stone. The inscription inside the band is of my choosing as well. It reads, _I choose you. And I am forever yours. _I allow a moment for him to see the engraving before I place it on the third finger of his left hand. Judging by the look upon his face, I believe the words have affected him.

Again, he takes my hands in his. And when Edward recites his vows to me, I understand why he was so overcome with emotion when I made my vow to him.

"You cannot possess me for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me for I am a free person. But I shall serve you in those ways you require, and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand. I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night and the eyes into which I smile in the morning."

Several shocked gasps echo in the church, but Edward continues as if he did not hear them.

"I pledge to you the first bite of my meat and the first drink from my cup. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. I shall be a shield for your back and you for mine. I shall not slander you, nor you me. I shall honor you above all others, and when we quarrel, we shall do so in private and tell no strangers our grievances. I am yours and you are mine. This is my wedding vow to you, Isabella."

When he allows me to read the inscription inside the band of my ring, tears cloud my vision.

... _and she was fair as is the rose in May._

The ring is a delicate gold band crowned with a beautiful blue stone. I have never seen a gem like this. The swirls of color within its facets catch the late afternoon light streaming through the stained-glass windows of the church and is simply beautiful. He places the ring on my finger and the briefest and softest of kisses upon my knuckles. This causes a few delighted chuckles from some of our guests.

The priest quiets the crowd and continues, proceeding to place a bundle of braided cords over our joined hands. As he speaks, he wraps the cords around our hands, holding them together.

"These many three-fold cords are a symbol to remind you of the importance of the Gods in your lives. With Them, all things are possible, and They will bless your union if you continue to serve Them."

With our hands still bound, the priest turns his eyes to the crowd. What he says next is the part of the ceremony unique to Galon. The blessing he offers comes from the long and rich history of their ancestors' belief in the elements to guide them.

"It is believed that the human soul shares characteristics with all things divine. It is this belief that assigned virtues to the cardinal directions; East, South, West and North. It is in this tradition that a blessing is offered in support of this ceremony."

"Blessed be this union with the gifts of the East. Communication of the heart, mind, and body. Fresh beginnings with the rising of each Sun. The knowledge of the growth found in the sharing of silences.

"Blessed be this union with the gifts of the South. Warmth of hearth and home. The heat of the heart's passion. The light created by both to illuminate the darkest of times.

"Blessed be this union with the gifts of the West. The deep commitments of the lake. The swift excitement of the river. The refreshing cleansing of the rain. The all-encompassing passion of the sea.

"Blessed be this union with the gifts of the North. Firm foundation on which to build. Fertility of the fields to enrich your lives. A stable home to which you may always return.

"Each of these blessings emphasizes those things which will help you build a happy and successful union. Yet they are only tools. Tools which you must use together in order to create what you seek in this union.

"In front of the Gods and these witnesses, I pronounce you Man and Wife." Elder Afton removes the braided cords binding our hands. "You may seal your union with a kiss."

Edward grasps the edge of my veil and lifts it over my head before gently cradling my face in his palms. Looking into my eyes, his words are but a whisper. "My wife."

The kiss he gives me is almost indecent, and the cheering and whistles from his countrymen are deafening as he wraps his arms around me and holds me close. His lips are firm and insistent, his tongue just barely making contact with mine, but he eventually relents, leaving me breathless. When he finally pulls back, we are both beaming.

When we turn to face our guests, I find so many happy faces. Emmett and Jasper are in the front row of the church, seated next to several of their men, and they all wear smiles; some are genuinely happy, some are mischievous with matching twinkles in their eyes. I scan the crowd and find Angela in the rear row of the church, dressed in her finest dress. While her appearance is out of place with the other Lords and Ladies and noblemen in attendance, she looks so very happy. She is seated next to a young man who must be Benjamin, and he is also smiling, but he is not looking at Edward or me. No, his focus is on Angela.

As we walk quickly up the aisle, I look around the small room, searching for Jane, but she is nowhere in sight. I heave a sigh of relief that she did not cause a scene during the ceremony.

Edward and I go through the church doors into the courtyard lit by the fading orange glow of the evening sun. We take the opportunity to sneak away from the crowd for a moment and find a quiet alcove, just on the edge of the courtyard.

"Isabella, my wife, you have taken my breath away. I have never seen such a beautiful sight as you. You are the most beautiful princess Galon, or Adwen, or all of the realms for that matter, have ever seen. And now ..." He searches my face, his eyes taking in each and every detail, "Now, you are mine." His kiss is aggressive and demanding, and his hold on me is equally so. With his left arm wrapped behind my back, his right hand roams, making its way from my hip upward. I am completely surrounded by him. When his hand finally reaches my breast, his thumb zeroes in on the pebbled flesh, as if he knows right where it is.

"I cannot wait to take you to my bed ... to make you mine, Isabella."

I look down, staring into his chest, unable to meet his surely intense gaze. "And I cannot wait to be yours, Edward," I whisper.

He kisses me once more, on the forehead this time. He holds me there, close to him, grasping me by the nape of my neck before releasing me. "We should find our way to the feast. We do not need anyone sending out a search party." He takes my hand, and we leave the privacy of the hidden alcove, walking back toward the castle and into the banquet hall. Music is already playing, the food is being brought out, and the mead is being poured.

When we enter, we are once again met with cheers. We are seated in places of honor at the front of the room, and for once, my father is not at the center of the table. We are served a hearty meal, and as he vowed, Edward feeds me the first bite from his plate and the first sip from his cup, much to the delight of our guests. As the meal goes on, we are suddenly interrupted by a strange sound. It grows louder and louder, and I soon realize it is all the men from Galon, lightly banging their goblets on the table tops.

I do not know the meaning of the gesture until Edward leans over to kiss me. His lips meet my smiling ones, and we kiss until we are both laughing.

He leans close and speaks so that I may hear him over the cheers. "This means they approve, my wife."

"I'm glad I meet with their approval."

The call to kiss comes several more times, and after each kiss, I find myself anticipating the next. The servers eventually begin to bring out the sweet treats that have been prepared for tonight. I choose several small items—cakes and candied fruits—and share them with Edward. He refuses to let me feed myself.

"I want to be the one to give you all sweet things in life." Each bite is followed by a chaste kiss, so I do not mind being fed.

Edward twirls me around the floor several times before passing me to one of his men. He is the first of many who take me for a spin before I am handed off to Jasper, who happens to be a fine dancer. I am currently being led by Emmett, who is large but surprisingly light on his feet.

"I want to thank you, Your Highness."

"Whatever for, My Lord?"

"Not only are we now family, but your marriage to a future king puts me in _your_ service. So please, call me Emmett." He smiles down at me. "I want to thank you for your acceptance of Edward. He was so melancholy when we set out to come here. He was hopeful that he would find a bride, but he knew it was possible that it would not come to pass. After his broken betrothal with the princess of Rhema, he has not had high hopes of finding a wife. Every kingdom his father was in contact with either had prior arrangements for their daughters, or had only sons. He was beginning to lose hope of finding a match his father would accept." He shakes his head, his smile still in place. "But watching him after that first night he saw you, well, he's a new man. I truly believe you are a good match for him ... in many ways. He has not been himself for so long, but I see that changing. I think you will help him become the man he is meant to become."

"Thank you, Emmett," I say softly, stunned at his confession. "I hope that I can be a good wife to him, to support him in all he does. He _is_ a good man. I can see that. And you are a good friend to look out for him."

As he gives me an awkward hug, awkward because he is so much larger than me, I hear Edward approach.

"Emmett, do I need to forcibly remove you from my wife, or will you willingly release her?" He is smiling, so I know it is all in jest.

"No, cousin. I was just giving her some friendly advice about how to endure the days you're being an arse."

I gasp, worried Edward will be offended. Hearing his laugh, though, I realize they must often behave like this.

"Hopefully, we get her to Galon before she sees the real me." He gives me a wink, so I know he is being playful, but before I can return his playfulness, his next words shock me. "Well, Emmett, I need to get my new bride to bed. It has been a long day." With that, he scoops me up in his arms. Along with my squeal of surprise, Emmett's laughter is joined by the hoots and cheering of all of Edward's men.

He whispers into my ear, "Is that agreeable with you, wife? Would you like to join me in bed?" His nose skims lightly up and down my neck, and his beard tickles as his lips leave light kisses upon my skin.

I nod, unable to speak. I notice as we leave the banquet hall that we have attracted a following.

"Edward, why are all of your men following us?" I'm beginning to feel uneasy watching the growing crowd of men trailing behind us.

"No need to worry, my wife. They are only accompanying us to our door. It is a tradition in Galon, among those not of royalty. It is meant to wish us well. But I will warn you, you may hear something not meant for a Lady's ears. Some of them are a bit deep in their cups."

We make the long walk to the Queen's chambers. As we approach the door, many of his men have begun to sing, and it is quite funny.

Emmett is leading the procession, so he is the one to get everyone's attention. "All right, settle down, men." His loud, booming voice rises over the revelry. "This is where we leave the happy couple. Edward and Isabella, may you have a long and happy life together." This is met with cheers from Edward's men. "May your happiness grow into love. May your love grow into passion. And may your passion fill your nights ... and a few cradles as well."

Edward is shaking with laughter as I hide my face in his neck. "Thank you, Emmett, for that, um, _encouraging_ speech. And with that, we bid you all a good night." We enter the room, and he kicks the door closed. We can hear the men singing as they walk away, and I am more than thankful they did not linger. He places me on my feet and holds me steady.

Now that we are alone, the nerves begin to creep in, and I begin to tremble. His hands move to cup my cheeks, and he places a tender kiss on my lips. "There is no reason to be frightened, Isabella. We will do this our way and at our pace. I will leave you now, so that Angela can help you prepare. And when I return, we will take this next step ... together."

I have lost my voice, so I only nod. With a kiss to my forehead, he leaves me, slipping through a door off the sitting room, into what I assume to be the bedchamber.

Left alone, my eyes fall closed, and I breathe deeply, trying desperately to calm my nerves. When my heartbeat begins to slow and my breaths are even, I open my eyes.

For so many years, my mother's chambers were sealed up with the ghosts of the past; only recently were they opened and cleaned for tonight's ceremony. Everywhere I look, I see things that tell a story about the woman who gave birth to me. The looking glass over the dressing table, the brushes and combs laid upon it, and the vibrant tapestries hung on the walls—all of it gives me some small clue about the woman I never knew. I wonder if she, too, spent the moments before her bedding ceremony in this room, nervous and anxious, unsure about what was to come.

It is in this moment that I realize how much I miss the guidance of a mother, even as I am to step into the role of a wife.

Before I allow myself to become too wistful, Angela enters, and she gets to work. We remove my dress, taking care not to damage it. She assures me it will be packed carefully and ready in time for our departure. After helping me to remove the layers worn beneath my gown, leaving me in my shift, she then unwinds my intricate braid, careful not to damage the pearls she had woven through it for the ceremony. My hair is brushed and braided again, but this time loosely. She helps me change into a sheer shift which ties in the front. It has delicate lace at the edges as well. It is really quite beautiful. The thought of it becoming stained with blood, torn or damaged makes me cringe. I can only hope Edward will be gentle. Angela then helps me into a robe, and I am ready for my husband.

"Do not fret, Isabella. He seems like a good man. He will treat you well, I am sure of it. Have a pleasant night, and I will see you in the morning." She wraps me in a soothing hug and pulls back with a smile on her face. "Your husband awaits you, My Lady." She nods toward the door Edward passed through earlier before leaving the room.

I stand stock still outside the closed bedchamber. I know what is next. I also know that three men, besides Edward, are already waiting inside, there to witness an act I wanted so badly to share privately with my husband.

I grasp the knob and push the door open, swallowing down the unease about what awaits me on the other side.

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**A/N: I would love to hear what you thought of the wedding, the vows and blessing especially. I found a good bit of it on a website if you're interested in taking a look. FFN does weird things to links, so here's the website, just remove the spaces and change the (dots) and (dashes). ;) **

**documents and designs dot com ****/verse/Celtic (underscore) marriage (underscore) wedding (underscore) vows dot htm #t10**

**If you're in my Sunshine Fics group on Facebook, this week's chapter pic includes Isabella and Edward's rings. Stop by and take a peek! I'll be sure to post the link to the vow and blessing site, too ;) **

**And now time for some recs! This week, I'm rec'ing four stories by the same author. **

**Isabelle Sumner's Secrets of the Court, The Broken Throne, and The Weight of the Crown are all part of an epic trilogy. I've yet to finish the third in the series, but they're great fics. She's also posting a new WIP, titled Audeamus. It's 'kind of' a sequel to the Secrets Trilogy ... but not. I only read the first chapter, but I am anxious to get back to it. **

**I hope you'll check them out! **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	9. Chapter 8

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember, all mistakes are my own.**

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**Chapter 8**

Pushing the door open, I take in the sight before me. The room is lit with several candles, and the fireplace is blazing, casting a warm glow over every surface in the otherwise dim room. The curtains around the bed are all drawn open, and the mattress is covered in many pillows and comfortable looking blankets. The bedding and curtains are a golden color, with stripes of blue woven throughout. It is cheerful, though it does not at all calm the nerves raging inside me. For a brief moment, I wonder if I was conceived in this room, this bed, as it was my mother's so many years ago.

I take a step inside before tuning to close the door. Inhaling deeply, I turn back and walk toward the center of the room. Three men are standing to the side in the shadows. A part of me does not wish to know who is witnessing this act other than the bishop and Sir Whitlock, but I cannot stop myself from looking. I am surprised to see that Jacob is the third witness in the room. The bishop and Edward's cousin both have their gazes fixed on the rugs beneath their feet. Jacob, however, watches me intently. I immediately look down, refusing to meet his stare. I do not know what is expected of me, so I choose to stand in the center of the bedchamber. I will wait for my husband.

I am still staring at the floor when I sense Edward approach me from behind. He wraps his arms around me and places a kiss on my barely exposed shoulder. "You look so lovely in the firelight."

My embarrassment steals my voice and threatens to take over, so I take another deep breath and remain silent.

"Will you allow me to lead you to the bed?" His voice is low, meant only for my ears.

Still unable to speak, I nod. He takes my hand and guides me toward the steps leading up to the high mattress.

When we reach it, he leans closer to whisper into my ear. "May I remove your robe?"

I hesitate, only for a moment, but it is enough for him to offer reassurances. "They cannot see you, Isabella. Even if you were not hidden by my body, we are far enough from their prying eyes."

I nod my acquiescence, and he reaches down to untie my belt, letting my robe fall open. His hands slowly move to grasp the edges of the fabric, just above my breasts, pulling it from my shoulders and down my arms. Gently clasping my shoulder, he turns me to face him.

He holds my jaw carefully and lightly brushes my cheek with his thumb. "You are so beautiful, Isabella. Truly stunning. I am a very fortunate man. I want you to only look at me, do you understand?" His words are but a quiet murmur.

"Yes." I tremble, both with nervousness and anticipation, and my hands fidget of their own accord. He stills my twisting fingers with his warm touch so as to calm me and get my attention.

"I am going to assist you in climbing into the bed. I will close all but one of the curtains before joining you, and then I will close the last one from inside."

I nod, thankful that he explains each step. I am putting my complete trust in this man, and he is showing me that it is not misplaced. He takes my hand and steadies me as I take the two steps leading up to the tall mattress. He reaches out to pull back the covers, allowing me to slip under them.

"Thank you." Raspy and broken, even I do not recognize my own voice.

He gives me a nod and a reassuring smile before he begins pulling the curtains closed one at a time. The bed grows darker as he blocks out much of the light in the room. As he reaches the last curtain, the one at the foot of the bed, he removes his robe. The faint light of the fireplace burning behind him plays off his torso, and the lines of muscle cast shadows in the hills and valleys on his chest and abdomen. A smattering of dark hair covers his chest, and another patch begins low on his belly, leading into his dark linen pants. I have never seen a man in so little clothing before, but I would wager that he is among the most beautiful of men.

Unfortunately, the others in the room decide to make their presence known. It is the bishop who speaks. "I apologize, My Lord, but you need to be in the bed before we can draw the final curtain." He at least has the decency to look contrite.

Edward huffs a breath, but nods. "Very well. Let it be known, though, I will not be rushed. I did not want this archaic ceremony to take place at all, so this will happen my way, at my pace and my discretion. Am I understood?" Although he is facing away from me, he must give the bishop an intimidating glare, for the man on the receiving end of his ire appears to pale.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Turning to me, Edward's expression softens, even though I can see he is still troubled. "Isabella, is there room in there for one more?" He is attempting to break the tension. And to his credit, he does get a smile from me as he steps up and climbs onto the bed. He looks almost predatory in his approach as he crawls toward me on his hands and knees, but though he may have the look of barely restrained desire, I know he will not hurt me. As he settles himself beneath the blankets, he reaches for me, and I willingly go into his open arms.

The bishop smiles apologetically before he draws the curtain closed, as if he has no more wish for his presence here than we do. What is more disturbing, though, is the last glimpse of Sir Jacob's cold, hard stare directed at me. I do not know what I have done to cause what appears to be his contempt, and it is ... unsettling.

As the curtains finally fall closed, Edward begins stroking my head. My pulse is racing as rapidly as hummingbird wings, and it does not escape his notice. "I can feel your heart beating, Isabella." He's speaking in hushed whispers now, trying to give us a modicum of privacy. "There is nothing to fear. I will do all I can to make this easy for you. The first time may be a bit painful, but it will get better over time."

I look up into his eyes, and as mine adjust to the light of the fire filtering through the curtains, I can see the honesty in his gaze. "I trust you, husband."

"Those words mean so very much to me." He breathes deeply as his eyes travel over my body. "May I see you? May I remove your shift?"

I nod. With his left arm bent and laying on the bed above my head, his fingers toy with the hair that has come loose from my braid. The fingers of his right begin tracing a path over my cheekbone and down my nose, eliciting smiles from us both. His touch then passes over my lips and down my throat and sternum, until he finds the laces of my sleeping gown. When he tugs on the end of one, it slowly unties. And as they fall loose and more of my skin is uncovered, he continues gently kissing my neck and shoulders. Soon the cool air comes in contact with my bared flesh.

"Beautiful," he whispers, mostly to himself. He kisses down my neck, the scruff of his beard brushing against my skin as his fingers trace a scorching path to my exposed breast. He circles the hard peak with his thumb, causing my breath to hitch. "How does that feel, Isabella?"

The sensation is nothing short of heavenly. So much so that I cannot speak, and only whimpers bubble forth from my throat. He replaces his thumb with his tongue, circling it unhurriedly, and a quiet, breathy moan passes my lips. When he takes my nipple fully into his mouth, my hands fly to his head, grasping his hair. He releases me suddenly, leaving me exposed, my chest heaving.

"I am going to remove your shift now," he says huskily. He works it off of my arms and down past my hips. Once I am completely free, he sits back on his heels and gazes at me. I begin to feel self-conscious, and I move my hands to cover myself.

"No, Isabella." He shakes his head, gently moving my arms to my sides. "Do not hide yourself. Songs are written about beauty such as yours. So please, do not ever hide yourself from me."

He reaches for the drawstring of his pants to untie them, and I look away, unsure if I want to see him. I felt something before, his manhood perhaps, hard against my thigh as he was kissing me. If that is indeed what it was, I am sure the sight of it would only add to my anxiety.

"Are you afraid to look at me, my wife?" His tone is quiet, although I am thankful the curtains are heavy, so as to muffle our voices.

"No, My Lord, I am just nervous. I have never—" I close my eyes and take a deep, calming breath. "I have never laid eyes on a man's body before," I whisper. "I am a bit ... overwhelmed." The sounds of rustling fabric fill the quiet space, and soon the warm, firm flesh of his body slides up against mine.

"If you will not look, perhaps you would like to touch?"

My eyes open and I turn my head to meet his hungry gaze, shock clear on my face.

"Well, it is only fair. I get to look upon you, to touch you. Should you not have the privilege of discovering my body as well?"

Tentatively, I place my hands against his chest. My palms glide over the warmth of his skin, and my fingertips dance over the scars he wears. The raised skin healed over old wounds reminds me of the warrior he has been and still is. I lift my eyes to his in question, but he says nothing. My gaze falls back to where my fingers lay, and his muscles flex under my touch as I continue my exploration. His arms are solid, strong, the ropes of muscle stretching as my hands move over him. The heat of his back warms my palms as they glide against it, and I consider the weight he must carry, both literally and figuratively. Wielding a sword in battle, learning the ways of ruling a kingdom; it all must weigh heavily upon him. This is the back of a powerful man. My hands trail lower, and I find the curve of his backside, firm and strong under my touch. The distance he has traveled on horseback over the years must be the cause.

I finally find the courage to bring my hands to his waist and then around to his front. My fingers meet the trail of hair I saw in the firelight, and it is surprisingly soft. My gaze moves from his chest back to his eyes, and I find encouragement in them. I dare not look down as my hand reaches its destination. As it does, he lets out a groan, and I instantly release him.

"I am sorry, My Lord," I whisper, my voice raspy.

"No, it is fine, Isabella. That was a sound of pleasure, not of pain."

I study him, dubious of the truthfulness of his words. "You are sure?"

His hand cups my cheek as he nods. "Quite sure, and I am disappointed you stopped." A grin teases his lips. "Please continue."

I slowly return my hands to his midsection and lower as I take a deep breath, my hand brushing along the length of him. I am a bit surprised at the size of it. It is hard, but it is also surprisingly smooth. I strengthen my resolve and grasp it gently. It feels like the softest silk wrapped around the hardest iron. The look on his face tells me he is enjoying this. His eyes are closed, and his breathing has sped up. I begin to move my hand, stroking and exploring this part of him. His reactions urge me on, and I grip more tightly and move my hand more quickly. Suddenly, his eyes fly open.

"Isabella, as wonderful as that feels, you must stop." His words are strained, his breathing heavy.

I release him as if he were on fire. "I am sorry, My Lord. If you would show me how to—" I am cut off by a forceful kiss. His tongue delves deeply into my mouth, and I can feel the passion in his movements. When he pulls away, we are both breathless.

"Believe me, you do not need any lessons. If you continue, this will be over before we begin."

His words puzzle me. He must see the confusion on my face.

"If you had not stopped, I would have spilled my seed all over your belly instead of when I am joined with you." He delicately moves my hand from him and pulls me closer still, practically covering my entire body with his. "I want to be inside you when that happens."

His directness is surprising but welcome.

"Oh," is all I can say before his mouth is once again on my skin.

His beard rasps against my skin as he kisses me, his lips hot against my neck, my breasts, my sensitive nipples. The scratch of his beard combined with the softness of his lips is maddening. My hands once again find his back, and I hold tightly to him as he continues to touch me everywhere, his mouth never leaving my flesh. His touch is gentle as it glides up along the side of my ribs, to the underside of my breasts, cupping them in his large hands before moving back to my ribs. His thumbs trail down the center of my belly as his hands ghost over my waist and hips. His warm palms move over my thighs to the inside, pushing them apart.

He settles his midsection between my legs, yet keeps his weight off me. As his kisses grow in intensity, his hand finds its way to my center. He is tender, careful, as he strokes me. I feel a slick wetness where his fingers caress my most delicate place. His exploration moves between my hidden folds, touching and circling. He spreads me apart, finding a small button which nearly sends me shooting off the bed with his touch.

I cannot contain the moan that escapes me. Keeping his thumb there, he slides a finger lower, to my entrance—circling, dipping, circling again—until finally, he slides it inside of me.

Eyes closed, I tense slightly, uncertain what to expect.

"Are you well?"

I nod, my breaths heavy.

"Isabella, please open your eyes. Let me see your eyes, you beautiful girl."

I open them, and the sight of him above me, surrounding me, is almost overwhelming. For the first time in my life I feel wanted, safe. He chooses that moment, as he's staring into my eyes, to slowly push another finger inside me. It is unfamiliar and more uncomfortable than painful. He gently works them deeper—in then out, in then out—and the sting all but disappears as my hips begin moving on their own.

"Yes, Isabella. Do you feel your body reacting to me?" His whispered words in my ear cause a shiver down my spine. His thumb is circling that button, his fingers moving in and out. There is a tingling feeling low in my belly, which I do not recognize. As he continues to move, continues to kiss me—my neck, my shoulder, my breasts—the feeling intensifies. I am suddenly frightened of the intense sensations and close my eyes tightly.

"Edward?" I hope he can hear the panic in my voice. My breathing has intensified, my chest rising and falling rapidly. My heart feels like it will beat out of the cage of my ribs.

"It is all right, my wife. This is what you are supposed to feel. Just let the pleasure wash over you. I have you. I will not let you fly away." He continues in his mission, whatever it is.

Mouth, tongue, lips, hands, fingers, in, out, circling, plunging.

Suddenly, I feel as if I am falling, flying, exploding, all at once. I cannot contain the scream that comes from deep inside me. I think I am chanting his name, though I am not sure, because I have lost my ability to hear. My fingernails have found purchase in his shoulders, and God himself could not remove them from my husband. He continues to glide his fingers in and out of me, decreasing his pace, eventually stopping all together. He removes his hand from me and rests it on my belly.

As I feel my soul return to my body, I begin to relax, my breaths slowing and the thudding of my heart calming. First my grip on his shoulders loosens, then my legs, which had been bent and wrapped around him, fall to the bed. I feel completely at ease. I am aware of Edward kissing my neck, his hands having returned to my hips before traveling down to my knees to once again bringing them up to his sides. He has moved up on me, and I can feel him, hard against my warmed flesh. Having shifted his weight, he now rests on his left arm, leaving his right hand to trace lines over and around my breast and nipple.

He pulls his mouth away from my skin for a moment to speak. "You are so perfect for me, Isabella. That was a beautiful thing to witness. Thank you for giving me your body." With that, he grabs hold of his manhood and guides himself to my entrance. He pushes his way inside of me, little by little, in and out, as he did with his fingers, then in a bit more. It is a strange sensation—at first a stretching, then a slight burning.

As he gets deeper, he pauses and looks me in the eye when he speaks. "You are mine, my wife." He then thrusts into me, completing our union. I cry out, the pain sharp, but not intolerable. Thankfully, he stills.

"Are you well?" His voice is raspy, not the strong and confident tone I am used to hearing from him. I know he is making a great effort to cause me as little pain as possible.

I reach up and grasp his face, my fingers working through the soft hairs of his beard as I search his earnest, green eyes. "I am well, my husband. Please make me yours." At that, he begins to cautiously move in and out of me.

As I allow my body to relax, and the pain begins to subside, I tentatively rock my hips against him. This encourages him to pick up his pace, and his movements gradually become more powerful, yet somehow still measured. His hands move to my backside, and as he angles my hips, bringing them higher, I once again grasp at his shoulders. With this new angle, I begin to feel pleasure. Instinct takes over, and I wrap both of my legs around him. Soon my bottom is lifted completely off the mattress, and the touch of his hand once again reaches that spot, just above where we are joined. He seems to finally rid himself of his hesitance and begins to thrust deeply into me.

"Oh, Isabella. I never knew it could be like this." His words are panted against my throat with his hot breath. He has my bottom in one hand, and his thumb working furiously to bring me more pleasure with the other. With his face buried in my neck, and mine in his, we are wrapped completely around each other. As he moves, I feel that same tingling begin. Before it can crash over me, he stills and breathes a grunt of satisfaction against my skin.

"So, so good, Isa ... bella." He pulses inside of me, the warmth of his life-giving seed shooting into my womb. My grip on him is strong, and I cling to him like a limpet. The feelings coursing through my body are many; I feel surrounded, safe, protected ... cherished. I say a silent prayer that we are blessed with a child, a child who would guarantee so much for both our kingdoms.

He is breathing heavily, and I am still holding on to him as he cradles me in his strong embrace. His hands have moved behind me, and he rests on his forearms, keeping his weight off of me. As his breathing slows, he raises his head, looking into my eyes. His are a sparkling green, even in the near darkness.

"My beautiful wife, there are no words." He kisses me deeply as I realize we are still joined. When he pulls away, he removes himself from my body. I wince as he withdraws, but when he does, I feel empty, incomplete. He holds me closer still, encasing me in his arms, chest to chest, with my head under his chin. His heart beats loudly beneath my ear as he places a kiss to the top of my head.

"Have I pleased you, my husband?" My voice is quiet, unsure.

"You have more than pleased me, Isabella. That was more than I ever imagined it could be. Thank you for sharing yourself with me so freely." He searches my eyes for a moment before tilting up my chin to meet his kiss.

Any fears I may have had when I first laid eyes on him have all been put to rest. He is not the savage warrior many feared him to be. No, his touch is tender and careful, and I realize how fortunate I am to have become his wife.

* * *

**A/N: This was technically the first lemon I ever wrote, so I feel like going to hide under a rock! Lol. It **_**was**_** reworked just a bit, but yeah, it was hanging out in my docs for a few years. I'd love to hear what you thought of it!**

**If you're in my Sunshine Fics group on Facebook, this week's chapter pic includes the bed mentioned in this chapter. Stop by and take a peek!**

**And now time for some recs! To go with this week's theme, I'm rec'ing a contest from a few years back—The Cherry Exchange. You should be able to find it in an author search on FFN. Nearly all of the entries were about 'the first time.' The entries are no longer listed on the contest page, but you will find the links. Two of these stuck out to me and are on my favorites list. **

**Bereit by GothicTemptress is not for the faint-hearted, but it is beautifully written and will likely bring a tear to your eye. **

**Summary: Faced with adversity, horror, pain, loss, love and hope, humanity bears the challenge of survival and the pursuit of happiness. Will Edek Cullenski and Izabela Swanda be ready for this journey? Based on my family's true story of surviving the Holocaust in war ravaged Poland and Germany during WW2.**

**Forever and Ever by theladyingrey42 is a sweet high school fic that I fell in love with. **

**Summary: Edward has been Bella's best friend since kindergarten, and so far he's made good on his promise to always do everything with her. But now that they're older, she finds herself wanting more. Can "forever" as just friends be enough?**

**I know first hand how difficult it is to make a complete story out of a one shot, and these two are great. I hope you'll check out these, as well as the other entries in the contest!**

**And speaking of contests, there are two going on now you should check out. the Inked Contest is open for submissions now through 9/22. Love Tattward and Inkella? You'll find them here. And the BotheredContest opens for entries on 8/15. It promises to be stories that include all the cliches, irritating words, and outrageousness you can shake a stick at. ;) Should be a lot of fun.**

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	10. Chapter 9

***Waves hello* I hope you'll take a moment to read this first A/N, if nothing else. It might answer some questions a lot of you seemed to have. **

**Based on many of the reviews, I'm thinking some of you have forgotten that Jacob isn't just a sick voyeur. The bedding ceremony was at King Charles' request. It was mentioned in chapter three, as well as chapter five. It's an actual ceremony that was used way back in the day to guarantee a marriage was consummated and that any children born of the marriage were legitimate. And as there is a throne at stake—**_**dominion**_** over Adwen—it is within Charles' rights to ask that witnesses be present, himself even. Charles chose Jacob to be present in his stead because he is trusted enough to lead Adwen's army into battles, so he's trusted enough in the king's eyes—to **_**BE**_** the king's eyes—to witness what would have future implications for his kingdom. Hope that clears up the question some of you had. **

**I also want to say thanks to all of you for your cheerleading over my lemon. It's not my favorite thing to write, so really, it means a lot. I heart you all! Xoxo It wasn't the first I've ever posted, just the first I ever wrote. Like I mentioned last week, it's been hanging around in my docs for a looong time. ;) **

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading. And a huge thank you to jayhawkbb for editing. I'm practically burying her in words right now, and she's rocking her inner Wonder Woman to edit them as fast as she can while she's busy with her RL responsibilities. Huge hugs to all you lovely ladies!**

**Please remember, I like to fiddle and tweak, so all mistakes are my own.**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

"We must be going soon. Our tent should be prepared by now. Do you feel well enough to walk to the camp?"

"I do not I rise from the bed, I will see how I feel. But truly, if I do not, do you plan to carry me all that way?" I ask with a laugh.

He merely smiles. "My wife, I would carry you all the way to Galon if you asked it of me. As your husband, it is now my job to do all that is in my power to care for you and make you happy." As he stares down at me, his gaze is full of respect, admiration, and dare I hope, affection?

"Then you are doing a fine job of fulfilling your husbandly duties." It is then that I hold the blankets tightly to my chest and sit up, wincing slightly as I do. He sits up quickly at my side, as if he can soothe my aches. "I am well. My body is just not accustomed to this kind of ... _vigorous_ activity." I say this almost as a question, my nose scrunched.

He barks out a laugh. "Well, my wife, I hope it becomes accustomed quickly, because we will be partaking in that _vigorous_ activity quite often." He searches the bed for his pants, quickly putting them on when he finds them. "I believe the Bishop and the others will need to return to inspect the bedding, but I hope to be away with you before then." He tentatively opens one of the curtains to see if we are alone. "I will see where our unwelcome guests have gone, and then I will be back to assist you." With a quick peck to my lips, he leaves.

I fall back to the mattress, reveling in its softness. This surely is a bed made for a queen.

A queen.

I am a married woman, joined with a man in line for the throne. I will one day be queen. It is a sobering thought. Everything I do will now be scrutinized by the people of Galon. As the third daughter, my actions were never given much thought, so this will be a new responsibility for me. I pray I have the strength and wisdom to prove myself to not only the people of Galon but also my husband. He is a good man, and I hope I can be the wife he needs by his side. My thoughts are interrupted by the curtains being drawn back.

"Come, my wife. Let us join our people outside the castle gates. I shall help you dress, if that is agreeable."

"Of course." He takes my hand and helps me from the bed. I try to bring the blanket with me, to cover myself, but he will not allow it.

"Isabella, you are my wife. I wish to see your naked body at every opportunity. Please do not hide it from me."

With my eyes shyly downcast, I let the blanket fall.

"Thank you," he whispers, tilting my chin up to place a chaste kiss upon my lips.

He looks around the room and spots what he is searching for. He takes a few steps away from me and retrieves my robe. As he holds it open, I turn around for him to assist me. As I do, my gaze lands on the red stain on the bed sheets, and I gasp.

He leans forward, speaking into my ear. "That is a sign of our vow to one another. I treasure it, knowing I am the only man to possess your body. I hold it sacred, and I will not forsake you. As you have given yourself to me, I have given myself to you. Only you. I will be faithful to you, Isabella. I know many men do not feel as I do, but you are my wife, and I will respect you ... respect the vows we have taken."

I turn to him and nearly knock him over with my embrace. He chuckles as he holds me.

"Thank you, Edward. Your words bring me great comfort." My words are muffled, spoken into his chest. "And I, too, will be faithful to you for the rest of my days."

"I should hope so." His eyes darken, though not with desire. No, I have not yet seen this look on his face. "The thought of another man touching you nearly drives me to madness. I fear I would run a man through with my sword for even looking at you too long. You are very precious to me." His hands cradle my face. "You are mine now, and I will protect and fight for what is mine." His kiss this time is demanding. He seems to have total control of my body, and it feels like clay in his hands. I completely surrender to him.

It does not take long for him to have me back on the bed, my robe on but open, all of me exposed. His lips cover mine, our tongues dance and slide against one another, and his hands seem to be everywhere. Without much warning, he enters me. I feel discomfort, but not the sharp, stinging pain of the first time we joined. And although he is careful, he is commanding. He has me at the edge of the bed, his feet planted firmly on the floor. Our hands are linked, our fingers laced together over my head as he moves over me. The position gives him leverage, and his thrusts are so much stronger and deeper. While still powerful, he is gentle in the way he moves in me, as if he knows there is lingering soreness from our first encounter. I hold tightly to his hands as he moves, breathing deeply and trying to focus on the way he makes me feel. It is pleasurable, but it is not the overwhelming, intense sensation I felt when his fingers touched me. Soon, Edward calls out my name against the skin of my neck. This time, though, the _Isa_ of my name is merely a breath, and all I hear is _Bella_.

He collapses atop me, his breathing heavy, his heart pounding. I stroke my hands through his hair. It is damp with sweat, but soft under my fingertips.

"I fear we shall never leave this room." His voice comes from between my breasts, where his face is buried. He then looks up at me and smiles. "You truly are a gift. Thank you." He places a tender kiss to my lips before slowly withdrawing from me. "But now, we must make haste. I worry my men will come for me, thinking I have been taken captive." He straightens and offers me a hand to stand, helping me rise from the mattress.

"You? Taken captive?" I laugh as I close my robe over my nakedness. "Surely they know you can take care of yourself."

"You think I jest, but I do not. And I believe it would be Emmett to lead the search party. Let us dress, and quickly. I fear that if we do not, then I shall have you again"—he kisses me—"and again"—he kisses me once more—"and again."

"Yes, yes, I understand. You are insatiable, and I must protect myself from your advances." With my back turned as I walk away, I wave him off as if to dismiss him.

His playful nature comes out as he reaches for me and tickles my sides. We are both laughing, enjoying this lighter moment. Soon, we calm enough to attempt to dress, much to my amusement.

I asked Angela earlier to prepare a simple dress for my departure from Broadcove Castle, something with which I would not need her assistance. But for all its simplicity, Edward still has difficulty helping me dress, and it is not the laces he seems to struggle with. No, it is his inability to stay on task. His hands roam as he assists me, and I find it difficult to deny him. It takes several tries, but we finally manage.

As we exit the queen's rooms, we are, in fact, met by a very worried-looking Emmett. "I was beginning to worry you had been captured, cousin."

Edward and I look at one another and burst into laughter.

"This is no time to laugh. We all know you have enemies who would like nothing more than to see harm come to you and your new bride. What was I to think when you had been gone for hours?"

"You should think that I am enjoying my new bride."

Embarrassment heats my cheeks, and I stare down at my feet.

"Now, before we attract any more undue attention, could you please quietly lead us back to our camp? It is time for all of my men to see their new princess." With that, he kisses my hand and leads me through the corridors, down staircases, past the kitchens, and through a door that leads us outside into the courtyard.

My pace slows once we leave the castle. Perhaps my aches and soreness are more than I first thought. Edward notices, and he reaches down and sweeps me into his strong arms.

"Oh!" I gasp in surprise.

"Did you think my offer was in jest?" His lips come closer to my ear as he holds me against him. "I meant what I said. I would carry you anywhere you wish to go."

"Thank you, husband," I whisper. "I did not realize how sore I was."

"As I told you, you only need ask me." He kisses me, and we are again on our way.

The walk through the courtyard is quiet, but as we approach the outer gates, the sounds of a celebration echo in the night air. It is low at first but grows in volume as we get closer to the camp. Their revelry comes into sharper focus in the light of the many fires lit throughout the sprawling sea of tents. It seems that his men are quite enthusiastic about their new princess.

"It would appear that they have been celebrating without us. What say you? Shall we join them?"

"It would be an honor to celebrate with them."

As we step farther away from the gates and closer to the informal celebration, I notice the numbers of tents and men have been greatly reduced since the last time I gazed at his camp from my chambers. "Edward?"

"Yes?"

"I remember seeing many more men here just this morning from my window. Did my eyes deceive me?"

"No, my wife. After the ceremony was complete, many of them began the journey back to Galon. There is much to take with us, so I thought it wise to give them a head start. If they encounter any obstacles, they can clear the way for us. There are still nearly a hundred men to accompany us home."

As we enter the camp, the noise increases when the men catch sight of us. We are congratulated many times over, and it delights me to receive such a warm welcome. As we near the center of the camp, we are approached by Sir Garrett.

"My Lord, I trust that the private ceremony went as planned?" he asks with a knowing smirk.

Looking into my eyes, Edward answers. "I could not have planned it any better. It was perfect." He kisses me deeply, and I am lost in it, until the clearing of a throat reminds us where we are.

"Splendid. I spoke with Lord Emmett, Lord Jasper, and a few of the men. We have a suggestion, if I may be so bold?"

"Go on."

"It seems the celebrating is going a little longer than we had planned, and many of the men are more than into their cups. We thought it prudent to suggest postponing our departure by a day. It would give the men time to recuperate from tonight, as well as allow you to be at your leisure tomorrow. We could depart early the following morning."

Edward seems to think it over. Looking at me, then to Sir Garrett, he nods. "It is a sound idea. I want my men well rested and able to defend us if necessary. So yes, we shall depart morning after next—under one condition."

"Yes, My Lord?"

"We are not to be disturbed. Only in the matter of life and death shall anyone bother us tomorrow. If I shall be traveling with the lot of you for over a fortnight, I want my wife to myself—uninterrupted—for the entire day."

"Yes, of course My Lord." Sir Garrett grins and nods in agreement before turning and walking away.

The rest of the night we spend dancing and laughing, and the mead is once more passed around. I have a chance to meet and speak with several of his men. They all seem loyal to Edward, which warms my heart. I can see that they respect him, and they trust him to lead them into battle.

When the fires begin to wane and the revelry finally dies down, Edward leads me to the tent we are to share for the next several nights. It is larger than I imagined. As we approach, I can make out a few details in the dark. Where most of the men's tents are small, many of them round, Edward's is large and square, with an extended overhang on the front. Under this is a table along with a few chairs. I can picture Edward enjoying a meal here or strategizing an attack. As we pass the table, he leads me inside.

There is a post holding the center upright. From the top of the post, four large, wooden arms reach out to hold up the corners. Long curtains hang from two of the arms, for privacy I assume. On one side is a large pallet consisting of a few furs, many blankets, and several pillows. It looks comfortable, inviting. On the other side of the tent, there is a modestly-sized wardrobe as well as two trunks, one which I recognize as mine. I walk around, looking and reaching out to touch all I see.

"Will this suit you, my wife?" He is standing at the entrance of the tent, his arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his face, watching me.

"It more than suits me." I turn back to look at him. "I think this will be rather cozy."

He stalks toward me, once again wrapping me in his arms. Kissing my neck, he growls in my ear. "Cozy indeed. We do not have to leave this tent for more than a day, my dear. I intend to take full advantage of having no interruptions, but tonight ..." He sighs. "Tonight we will sleep. You are still uncomfortable from—"

I pull back and look up into his eyes, suddenly worried he is displeased with me, thinking I am unable or unwilling to perform my wifely duties. "No, I am well. If you wish to—"

He silences me with a kiss, holding me tightly but gently, before pulling away and resting his forehead to mine. "I had to carry you to camp, Isabella," he whispers. "I know you are uncomfortable, and I would be a monster to ask more of you this night." He pulls back to meet my gaze. "You will come to learn I would have you several times a day, but your body needs a rest."

I open my mouth to speak, but he places a finger to my lips.

"I plan to have you again before we leave Adwen, but I cannot do that knowing it is causing you pain. And I have already had you twice. We will have all of tomorrow to lie abed and explore each other, but for tonight, what say you and I see just how warm and cozy that bed is?"

I am nearly speechless at his concern for my well-being. "I would like nothing more," I whisper.

After securing the flaps of the tent, we help rid each other of our clothing. It is warmer inside the tent than I imagined it would be, so I do not protest when he removes mine completely, not even leaving me in my shift. He picks me up and carries me to the bed. Turned on his side, he holds me close. My head rests against his shoulder, just under his chin, and his hands move over the skin of my back in a soothing pattern. I relish the attention, and soon my eyes flutter closed.

Our breathing slows, and sleep creeps in on us, my eyes growing heavy. He rolls to his back, bringing me with him, and my head rests on his chest. The warmth of the furs is enough to keep the chill of the night at bay.

He holds me impossibly closer and brings the blankets and furs higher to almost completely cover us. Kissing the top of my head, he murmurs, "Sleep, my wife."

And I drift off as I listen to the soothing sound of my husband's beating heart.

* * *

The midday sun has warmed the tent quite nicely. I roll over and stretch out my arms and legs, working out the soreness from yesterday's _vigorous _activities_._

Edward's voice is deep, heavy with sleep when he speaks. "What a beautiful sight to wake to. Good morning, wife." I look over and see he is on his side, propped on one elbow, his head resting in his hand as he watches me. He reaches out to stroke my naked breast, causing my breath to hitch. "Yes, quite beautiful."

"Good morning, husband." I roll back to his open arms, nuzzling into his chest. "Edward?" I keep my face hidden against him. I have an embarrassing question to ask, but I must ask it, as I will be with him like this for many days before we arrive in Galon.

"Yes, Isabella?"

My embarrassment nearly steals my voice, and my question comes out in a near whisper. "Am I to find a tree, or is there a chamber pot in the tent?"

This makes him laugh, a deep, hearty chuckle escaping. "Ah, my outspoken wife. I was wondering when you would make an appearance. Yes, my dear, one has been brought into the tent. It is on the other side of that curtain," he says, pointing to the corner. "I thought you may want some privacy. If you would like, I can ask that some hot water be brought in so we can wash as well."

"Oh, yes, that sounds wonderful. I feel a bit ..." I scrunch my nose, thinking of the word I want to use. He may appreciate my outspokenness, but I do not think my husband would like it if I were to complain that I am sticky.

"Yes, my wife, I feel a bit that way as well. I will ask for the water to be brought once you are safely hidden from any prying eyes." He places a kiss to the top of my head once more before I wiggle away from him and wrap myself in a blanket as I disappear behind the curtain.

As I do my business, I can hear him speak to one of his men—I believe it is Alec—about bringing us water with which to bathe. I then hear Alec answer him.

"Should I bring the tub, my lord? It may help soothe her sore cun—" His words are cut off abruptly, a strangled gasping sound escaping Alec.

"If you know what is good for you, you will not finish that sentence. Bring the water as I instructed, and keep your mouth shut."

No more is said, and I quickly finish tending to my business. Soon, I hear new voices—Garrett and Michael, I believe.

When I know they have left, I emerge from behind the curtain. What I see before me is a welcome surprise. A large tub has been brought in for us. The water is steaming in the cool morning air.

"I thought you might enjoy a bath, my wife."

"How ever did you have this ready so quickly? You only just asked for water."

He stands confidently, crossing his arms across his chest and quirking an eyebrow at me. "I knew you would enjoy a bath, and I asked my men to be sure to have enough water heated to fill the tub when the sun rose."

"Oh." I stand, unsure of myself.

"Is it to your liking?"

"Of course. This is lovely. Thank you." I do not make a move to get in, though. I am feeling a bit shy in the light of day.

"Are you not going to get in?" He chuckles, and his eyes are filled with mirth.

"I am sorry, husband." I move slowly to remove the blanket as Edward steps closer to me, reaching to help me.

"Do not be sorry, Isabella. There is no reason to feel ashamed or shy in front of me."

The blanket falls to the ground, exposing my nakedness. Edward gently grabs hold of me, his hands encircling my waist, his fingers nearly touching. I feel so small, so delicate in his large hands.

"I am not ashamed," I say softly. "Perhaps just a bit unsure of myself. This is all still very new to me."

His mouth moves to my neck, kissing the skin there. His words are no more than a whisper. "Yes, I know, but there is no reason to feel unsure. I am a fortunate man to call you my wife." I relax in his hold as his hands begin to roam. "May I join you in your bath?"

My eyes widen. "My Lord?"

He looks pointedly at me, as if I should know better.

"I mean, Edward. You wish to bathe with me?"

"Yes, I do. I think the warm water would serve us both well. So, what do you say? May I join you?"

I am unable to deny him anything. "Of course, my husband."

He moves to remove the robe he was wearing, untying the belt at his waist, and I look away in embarrassment. But he will not allow it. He grasps my chin to look at him.

"Isabella, do you not wish to look upon your own husband?" There is amusement in his tone.

"I have never seen a man that way." I almost cannot hear my own voice. My eyes are focused on his naked chest. The same chest I saw in the firelight last night and again this morning as I woke. The strong muscles, the soft hair that is sprinkled upon it have my full attention.

"Isabella, please look at me."

I shift my gaze to his eyes.

"Are you frightened? I have already opened your body with mine. There is nothing more to fear. The difficult part is over." His hands cradle the back of my neck as his thumbs caress my jaw.

I reach up to hold onto his wrists. "I do not believe it is fear. Perhaps it is. I do not know." I squeeze my eyes shut in embarrassment. His kiss to my forehead is gentle, reassuring.

"Allow me to assist you, my wife." Like his kiss, his voice is soft and tender.

With a nod, I open my eyes and release his wrists. He takes my hand and leads me to the bath. I step into it and sink down into the water. I cannot help but give a contented sigh as the warm water surrounds me. It is then that I feel Edward step into the water, settling himself behind me, and as he wraps his arms around me, I'm filled with a contentment I've never known.

* * *

**A/N: Next up ... on the road to Galon. Anyone have any guesses on what's next for these two? **

**If you're in my Sunshine Fics group on Facebook, I'll be posting some extra pics this week of Edward's tent and how I envision the camp to look. Stop by and take a peek!**

**And now time for some recs!**

**Lover of the Light by vampbirch is one of my all-time-favorite teen pregnancy fics. I saw it mentioned over the weekend on Facebook, and I had to dive back in for a re-read. It has all the feels. I flove this one. Summary: ****"There's this new girl in town. I call her Brightside. Emmett likes her, but he says she smells like trees. I think she smells good, like lavender... anyway, I think she's going to have my baby." A story about a boy who made a mistake. Or two. AU-AH**

**dóttir by cupcakeriot is a vikingella story, and according to the author, inspired by How to Train Your Dragon. Like so many WIPs, I'm a few chapters behind with this one, but it had me hooked from the start. Summary: The Norns work in mysterious ways. What starts with a strike of lightning and an orphaned dragon egg will end up reshaping the future of the Vikings - and the Chieftain's daughter - forever.**

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	11. Chapter 10

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading. And a huge thank you to jayhawkbb for editing. She's still rocking inner Wonder Woman to edit them as fast as she can while she's busy with her RL responsibilities. Huge hugs to all you lovely ladies!**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Fog and mist rise from the field as the morning sun burns the dew from the grass. It swirls around the men as they load the last of the supplies. They have already made quick work of tearing down what stood here for so many weeks.

The call to rise came before the break of dawn, and before I was even dressed, the men were waiting to pack our tent and all our belongings within. Ours was the last to come down. And they moved swiftly. It seemed like mere moments passed and the tent was being stored away, leaving behind a swath of mud and trampled grass.

But watching them now, I can see how they work together, each man knowing his place, his task. One group tends to the packing and one to the loading, while another contends with the animals. One of said animals just arrived, and judging by her wide eyes and tense stature, I know she is frightened by all the commotion surrounding her.

"And you are sure Moondancer will be all right?" I worriedly look in the direction of my mare as she is saddled; one of Edward's men will ride her during the journey.

"She will be fine." My husband brushes my cheek with a gentle touch, bringing my gaze back to him. "I would not allow just anyone to care for something you hold so dear. Benjamin is one of my most trusted men. I know he will not push her too far, and he will let her rest if the journey becomes too much."

While it comforts me the man Angela wishes to court her is deemed trusted, I narrow my eyes at him. "I still do not see why I cannot ride her myself."

He smirks and stifles a laugh. "Oh, my dear, stubborn wife. Grant me this one selfish request. Having you in my arms for even a portion of each day will help quench my constant need to have my hands on you. When you tire of riding, you can join Angela in the wagon. And besides, even in my saddle, by the end of a full day of riding, you would be so sore I would be unable to take you to my bed." He kisses my forehead, ignoring my scowl. "It is something on which I am unwilling to compromise." His gaze shifts to over my shoulder. "Besides, I believe your friend would be lonely riding alone."

I sigh, giving up the fight. "Yes, I suppose you are right."

"Of course, I am." He looks back to me, still smirking. My scowl remains and only makes him laugh as he turns from me to make sure all is ready for our departure.

Looking around the field, now clear of the tents that have been erected for over a month, I take in the sights. The grass, trodden down by an army of men and their animals, is littered with patches of mud and the ashy remnants of fires that have blazed for weeks. The nearly one hundred men work to pack and secure the last of the belongings that will travel with us to Galon. Angela, who has been so wonderful in arranging for the rest of my belongings to be delivered to the camp, is directing men to pack them carefully into one of the carts in which she will ride for the journey.

As I approach her, she is giving an order to one of the poor men in charge of loading my things. "Kind sir, that trunk has delicate contents. I beg you take care not to damage anything."

"Yes, milady," is his mumbled reply as he carefully places the smaller trunk in the cart.

"Angela, I see you have things well in hand here."

She turns, surprised at my sudden appearance. "Of course, My Lady."

"And what is so delicate within that trunk you've warned the man not to damage it? I did not think I had anything especially fragile packed."

She smiles and leans in close. "'Tis your shifts and more ... _delicate_ underthings."

I raise a brow in question.

"I thought it wise to ask him to give greater care. I would hate for the trunk to hit the ground and all of your lace and silk to be blowing about in the mud."

My face heats at the thought, and I nod. "Of course."

"What has you blushing, my wife?" Edward steps to my side, startling me.

I smile and shake my head. "Nothing of any importance, My Lord."

"Hmm. I shall take your word for it." He raises a brow at me. "I have come to retrieve you. If I might escort you, my wife, I am told we are ready to set off." He extends an arm to me, and I place my hand on his forearm.

"Angela," I say, turning to my friend, "I will likely join you after the midday meal."

"Yes, My Lady."

I nod and turn my attention back to my husband, allowing him to lead me to his stallion.

He climbs first into his saddle before extending a hand to me. Placing a foot in the stirrup, I hoist myself far enough that he can grasp me with his hands, settling me in front of him, my side to his chest and my legs over one side of the saddle. I wrap my arms around his midsection when he flicks the reins, urging his horse into a trot until we reach the front of the group of men.

"We set out today to journey home." Edward's voice is strong as he calls out to his men in the field. "In many ways it is like the journeys we have made in the past. Yet, this time, it is very different. This time, men, we travel with precious cargo. I demand your utmost attention as we travel the road to Galon. We know not what we may encounter on our journey, be it man or beast, but I am entrusting the safety of my bride to all of you. I expect each and every one of you to lay down your lives to protect your future queen." He pauses as his horse shifts its feet beneath us. "May the Gods guide us home."

With a boisterous cheer, the men all fall into formation, some on horseback and others on foot, many of them heavily armed to lead the charge. The rest follow behind us, leaving us safely ensconced in the center of the horde of men. And while nearly all the carts and wagons carrying supplies are trailing at the rear of the pack, the cart carrying my friend is but a short distance from us. My husband's thoughtfulness to have my friend so near to me during our journey warms my heart.

I reach up and kiss the underside of Edward's jaw, the soft hairs of his beard tickling my lips.

"Not that I am complaining, but to what do I owe the pleasure of your kiss, my wife?" His eyes do not shift from the horizon, but a smile plays on his lips.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For doing everything in your power to see to my happiness." I rest the side of my head against his chest, nuzzling into his warmth on this chilly morning.

He peers down at me and raises my chin so I may meet his eyes. "It is now my duty to do so." He gives me a soft kiss before returning his focus to the road ahead.

We ride along in silence until we reach the crest of the first small hill. He stops and turns his horse in the direction of the only place I have ever called home, those riding alongside us continuing on.

"Take one last look upon your homeland, Isabella. I do not know if you shall ever again lay your eyes upon it."

As I scan the distant horizon, it appears the same as any any other day. Broadcove Castle rises from the hills of Adwen. Farms are scattered around the fields beyond. There is no fanfare as I leave my family's home; no official sendoff by my father, nor even a simple goodbye from him or either of my sisters. No, only a few, lone figures dot the horizon as I am carried away. I am unsure if I am saddened or relieved.

"I have seen enough," I whisper. I tilt my head back to look into his eyes. "I am ready to see my new home."

Edward nods before placing the gentlest of kisses upon my lips. "Then that is where I shall take you."

Tugging on the reins, he turns his mount back in the direction the rest of his men are traveling. He kicks his horse into a gallop, and we race back until we are safely surrounded by his men. With each step we take away from Adwen, we are one step closer to Galon ... and my new life.

* * *

Riding by horseback, even cradled against the warmth of my husband's chest, is not as comfortable as I believed it would be. And as he predicted, by our stop at midday, I am quite ready to give my backside a rest.

Once I am safely back on my own two feet, I realize I need a private moment. It appears we have stopped near a tree line, and I begin to walk in the direction of the wooded area.

"My Lord, I shall only be a moment. I—"

He grasps my elbow, halting my steps. "You shall go nowhere without an escort."

My eyes widen. "Certainly, you do not expect me to—" I lean closer and whisper angrily. "You do not expect me to take care of personal matters with an audience."

A smirk pulls at the corners of his lips, and at this moment I wish nothing more than to wipe it from his face.

"Oh, my dear wife, certainly you do not expect me to allow you to wander off into the trees ... _alone_, do you? There are people in this world who wish us both harm, for our very lives hold the key to the futures of not one but two kingdoms. So no, you will not be going anywhere without an escort."

While I wish I could argue with him, I know he is right. "I understand," I say softly.

"It's your lucky day that I am at your disposal to be your personal guard." He winks as he grasps my hand and leads me. "Perhaps Angela would care to accompany you?"

"Oh, of course." I turn and search for her in the crowd. I catch her eye as she is helping one of the men unpack what we are to eat and motion for her to join me. Our small procession does not go unnoticed, and we are soon joined by both Emmett and Alec.

I hang my head in embarrassment at all that is needed just for me to relieve myself.

With all the men's backs turned, Angela and I are able to step just into the trees to do our business. Of course, this is after they search the shadows for any dangers lying in wait for us. I want so badly to laugh at the ludicrousness of it all, but the look of concern on my husband's face tells me it is not a good idea.

If he truly believes there may be danger, I must trust him.

"There you are, My Lady. Everything is back to rights." Angela completes her check of my dress, making sure nothing is embarrassingly out of place.

"Thank you, Angela."

"All is well?" Edward asks when I return to his side, placing a hand on his arm so he may lead me back to the group.

"All is well." Around us, the men are resting in the midday sun, some eating, some seemingly playing with their swords. "How long shall we be here?"

"Just long enough for everyone to stretch their legs, perhaps eat something."

Flanking us, Alec gives Edward a disapproving look.

Standing opposite of Alec, Emmett gives the man one of his own. "Is there anything else, Alec?"

The scowling man shakes his head, and his gaze drops to his feet as he walks. "No, My Lord," he grouses.

"I'm sure that your Princess would appreciate her horse being tended to."

The other man's eyes narrow, flashing to mine and back to Emmett, but he does not reply; he simply nods his head once and walks away.

Along with the men still at my side, I watch as a disgruntled appearing Alec walks toward the tethered horses.

"Has he been causing trouble?" Edward asks his cousin, his gaze never leaving the man in question.

Emmett shakes his head. "Other than being in a foul mood since your wedding, no. But he's been especially difficult since we started on the road. More than once he's mentioned his"—his eyes flash to mine and back to his cousin—"displeasure at our pace. A few of the men have mentioned him grumbling as we walk."

Edward merely hums as he studies Alec from a distance. "Keep a close eye on him." He turns back to Emmett. "We will stay at our pace. There is nothing to gain from moving any faster. We will rest when we need to and get back on the road soon enough."

Emmett nods once. "Yes, My Lord." He takes a step back, and before he turns to leave us, he sends a wink in my direction.

I look up at Edward. "Is it not something you usually do? Stopping to rest?"

Before he can answer me, the loud cawing of a raven sounds from the treetops. All of the men, including Edward, turn to look for it, reaching for the hilts of their swords.

"What is it?" I ask, my own eyes scanning the canopy above us.

"A raven," he replies simply.

"I know that, My Lord, but why does everyone look as though they are ready to slaughter the poor creature?" My question is asked with a smile on my face, as I find humor in their reaction to a mere bird, but _his_ face holds no amusement when he turns to speak to me.

"Do ravens not hold the same meaning for the people of Adwen as they do for mine?"

I shake my head. "I do not know, My Lord. What meaning do they have for you?"

Edward scans the tree line before leading me away from the group and toward a blanket that has been laid out on the cool ground.

He helps me sit and waits until we both have something to eat and drink before explaining himself. "Ravens have always been a bad omen to my people. The Gods are thought to have sent them here to warn us of coming dangers. "When one makes an appearance, and doubly so when it announces its presence, we take notice." He looks off into the distance. "It is never a good thing," he says quietly.

We eat in silence, each of us ruminating over what was seen and said.

I clear my throat, ready to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere surrounding us. "So, do you not usually stop to rest? I get the feeling some of your men may be unhappy with our pace."

He smiles and reaches for my hand, bringing it to his lips. "No, we do not, but we have untraveled passengers along with us this time. I do not wish to tire you before we even truly get started. We are yet a long way from Galon, and I wish to make it as pleasant as possible for you, and Angela as well."

My friend, sitting near enough to hear, smiles at the mention of her name, pleased, I'm sure, to be considered.

"But will stopping each day for any length of time not add days to our journey?"

"Perhaps. But I will not risk rushing home merely for the sake of time. There are some things more important than that." With another kiss to my knuckles, the matter is closed.

* * *

Not ready to retire for the night and soaking up every last bit of warmth we can, Edward and I are still sitting by the fire well after the sun has gone down.

"This is the way to travel home," he says, placing a kiss to my temple.

"And how is that?"

He pulls me closer to his side. "With a warm woman beside me and a warm bed waiting for us, sheltered from the cool night by a tent."

"Do you not sleep in tents when you travel?"

"Not always. When we have a destination we need to reach quickly, we sometimes will just make a pallet on the ground and sleep beneath the stars. I have spent many nights that way."

I snuggle closer into his warm embrace. "I do not think I would care for traveling like that."

He laughs. "No, I do not suppose you would. But our tent and the one Angela is sleeping in will likely be the only two set up on this journey, unless we encounter rain or snow in the higher elevations."

"Snow? But it is so early in the season."

"Yes, the higher we go, the colder it will be. Snow is not out of the question."

"I do not know if my cloak will be warm enough for snow," I say quietly.

"Then I shall just have to share mine with you." He stands and helps me to my feet, pulling me against his chest. "And at night I shall warm you in other ways."

"Oh?" I ask breathlessly.

He nods as his lips descend toward the bare skin of my neck, the contact making me shiver, and not from the cool night air. "What say you? Will you allow me to wrap you in my furs during the days and warm you from the inside out each night?"

As always, his heated words leave me unable to speak, so I nod in agreement, and with no protest from me, he takes my hand and pulls me to our tent.

Once inside, his mouth leaves a trail of kisses along my neck as his hands roam my body. I am eager as he strips me of my clothes and lays me on our pile of furs and blankets. With little preamble, he pushes his way inside my body for what I am sure is only the first time this night, warming me, as he promised, from the inside out.

* * *

The following days pass much like the first. We break camp at first light, stop when needed through the day, and set up the two small tents as dusk approaches. The stories of Galon told around the fires each night—tales of festivals and times of plenty, of friendships formed and alliances made—make me wish we were arriving sooner, but I know we have many more days ahead of us before we reach it.

Edward is right about the snow, so I am not shocked when we encounter the first flakes at the end of the first week. It does not make it any less uncomfortable. He keeps to his word, though, and wraps me in his warmest cloak, lined with the softest fur, and holds me tightly in his arms. On these days, despite my sore backside, I do not wish to ride alongside my friend in the cart, but I do. Angela and I share the warmth of the fur-lined cloak, our arms wrapped tightly around one another, until we can shelter inside the warmth and relative safety of the tents.

Those first sparse flakes soon turn to a blanket of white as we reach even higher elevations just a few days later, and the harsher conditions mean slowing our pace. The horses need extra care in the cold and snow, and Edward does not wish to tire them or push them unnecessarily. Our stops at the end of our traveling days are now for two or three nights at a time, giving the horses time to rest, the men time to hunt, and all of us time to warm and dry ourselves beside the fire.

The camp is now much more than just the two shelters needed for Angela and me. It is a sprawling mass of canvas and wooden posts with many fires for warmth and cooking spread throughout. More than thirty tents now fill the field we have claimed for our camp. It does not cease to amaze me how quickly these men can turn an empty patch of land into a small and temporary city.

As is the same every night, Edward and I are wrapped around one another. The heat of our naked, spent bodies beneath the blankets and furs keeps us warm despite the cold outside our tent.

Edward's fingertips trace invisible lines up and down my back, stopping every now and again to idly toy with the ends of my hair. "I do not think I will ever be able to make camp again without you by my side." His low, murmured voice is but a rumble beneath my ear as my head lies on his chest.

I raise my eyes to his, a grin on my face. "Are you already planning to leave me once we reach Galon to go play in the woods with your men?"

He smiles as he brushes the slightly sweat-dampened hair from my forehead. "I never _plan_ to leave my home to go _play in the woods_, but I must go where my king orders me to go." His smile falls, if only a little. "I can only hope, when the time comes, it is not for long." He searches my eyes. "Already I cannot imagine leaving you behind."

The typical sounds of the camp at night filter through the fabric walls of the tent—men talking, the large fires left to burn overnight popping and crackling.

"And I cannot imagine being left behind."

"You know, when I suggested my taking a wife to my father, he thought I was mad."

"Mad? I thought he was anxious to see you wed."

His smile is small, crooked. "Yes, he was, but he thought me mad for wishing to align us with Adwen." He turns us so I am on my back, his lips mere inches from mine. "If that is true, I must say, I am the happiest of madmen."

My giggling is cut off by his lips on mine as he takes me once again, successfully tiring us out. Neither of us pay any mind to the distant caw of the raven.

* * *

**A/N: I'd love to hear your thoughts and theories! **

**And now time for some recs!**

**Outbound by aftrnoondlight is some good, old-fashioned romance, IMO. Really, check it out. You won't be sorry. Summary: Two beautiful souls humbly traveling life's lonely path, until fate suddenly shows her hand. Will Edward and Bella surrender willingly... A tender, romantic tale of love and life in the clouds.**

**Analogous by archy12 is another WIP I need to get caught up on. Summary: "The world is full of hopeful analogies and handsome, dubious eggs, called possibilities." (George Eliot) After Edward loses his brother, and Bella her boyfriend, can they find one of these possibilities?**

**The BotheredContest is in full swing with a handful of entries up. You NEED to go read them. They're cringey and hilarious. Go, read! **

**And Twilight Tricks and Treats is gearing up for another contest this year. You can find it here on FFN under the pen name TwiTricksandTreats5. Be sure to follow the page so you don't miss any of this year's entries! All the info you need is on the contest page, as well as the Facebook group. **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	12. Chapter 11

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. I'm a chronic fiddler, so all mistakes are mine. **

******Please read the A/N at the end!******

* * *

**Chapter 11**

I'm awoken some time later, and confusion sets in. The black of night should be at its deepest now that the fires have all but burned out. But the warm glow illuminating the canvas of the tent, combined with the cold space beside me, is disorienting.

"Edward?" I call out quietly. "Edward?"

I sit up and listen, but no reply comes. When the distant echoes of yelling men break through the silence, I know something is not right. I blindly grab for my clothing, first putting on my shift, followed by the travel dress I have been wearing for the last several days.

As I slip my feet into my boots, the sounds coming from beyond our tent grow louder, and the unmistakable clash of steel on steel reverberates through the night air. I reach for my cloak and find Edward's instead. I pay no mind to it being too long when I stand. Instead, I focus on finding out what is happening and where my husband is.

I throw open the flaps of our tent and am met with a terrifying sight. Everywhere I turn, amidst the men scrambling for their weapons and running toward the danger, there is fire. Tents in every direction are ablaze, and several of the men work to douse the flames with snow and what little water we collected earlier in the day.

Moving on instinct, I grab a nearby bucket, filling it with snow. But my attempt to toss it onto a burning tent is in vain; the wet lump falls quite a distance short of doing any good.

"Stay back, My Lady!" Sir Michael yells in my direction as he works with a few of the other men to try and put out another nearby fire. "My Lord will have my head on a pike if anything happens to you!" When one of the other men yells for more water, he turns back to his futile attempt to snuff out the flames but not before calling to me over his shoulder. "Please go back to your tent, My Lady. Right now, it's the safest place for you."

I step back from the few men tasked with putting out the fires. Disregarding Michael's request, I search the night for any sign of my husband, but he is nowhere to be found.

Fear roots me in place as everything around me burns before my eyes. Whatever this is, whoever is attacking us, it is clear they intend to kill us. A sudden and overwhelming need to find Edward, to have him hold me and protect me from danger, shoots through me. And standing here will not help me find him.

Anxious to be back in his arms, I sprint into action. My feet carry me toward the mayhem to make my own attempts at helping, but I am stopped when I stumble, falling to my hands and knees on the cold, ash-covered ground.

In the darkness, I failed to see the fallen men, those that have given their lives to protect us, to protect me, and there are many. The bodies of ten or more men lie on the ground, their wounds gruesome. Having spent my life sheltered in Broadcove Castle, this is the first time I have seen death this close, and I must swallow down the bile rising in my throat.

As my wide eyes take in the carnage, a hand reaches for me. I stifle a scream, but when I find familiar blue eyes looking up at me, I am quick to grasp it.

"Please." Garrett's voice cracks, his words almost gurgled as a trail of blood drips from the corner of his mouth.

I squeeze his hand and smooth his hair from his forehead. "Shh, all will be well, Sir Garrett. You are fine." Tears blur my vision while Garrett's becomes distant, clouded.

He gasps and coughs, struggling to breathe. "Katherine," he whispers as his eyes close, just before he exhales his final breath.

I have never watched a person die. It is not the dramatic thing I thought it to be. No, it is quiet, simple, as if Garrett has merely closed his eyes to rest, so I do not expect my reaction. Deep and heavy sobs wrack my body as I lay my head on his chest, ignoring the gaping wound in his middle.

Knowing there is nothing more I can do for Garrett, and my safety lies in my own hands, I raise my head and wipe the wetness from my cheeks.

"I will be sure Katherine knows your last thoughts were of her," I promise the dead man.

I stumble to my feet, feeling lost as I look around. The safety and security I have found among these men is burning before my eyes. I look down at my hands, stained with soot and ash, smeared with blood, and it is almost too much to bear.

The sounds of a battle, the clanging of steel blades, the yells and grunts of men, grow closer still, and I am frozen in place. When their shadows begin to come into focus near the fires, I see the backs of men who have traveled alongside me for well over a fortnight as the enemy presses onward, pushing our men back toward the flames. Even at a distance, watching our men fall brings me as much pain as watching Garrett die.

But what steals my breath and brings me to my knees is the sight of my husband.

I always pictured him in my mind's eye as a formidable force on the battlefield, but always on horseback, always in the position of a commander, ordering his men from the relative safety of his saddle. I never pictured him as he is now; his feet on the ground, his sword in one hand and a shield in his other, facing the enemy eye to eye and sword to sword.

"Edward!" I scream, desperation to have him safe getting the better of me.

He turns, his eyes shining across the distance, and I know in that moment I have made a grave error. Panic bubbles up in my throat when the enemy fighting from the shadows uses Edward's moment of distraction to strike. The enemy's blade makes contact with my husband's sword arm, and Edward's weapon falls to the ground.

I cover my mouth as I scream, the sound muffled by my hands and the chaos surrounding me. With fresh tears streaming down my cheeks, I watch, helpless, as Edward is taken down, held within the grasp of several men. His eyes meet mine across the expanse between us, and he mouths a single order.

"Go!"

Unwilling to tear my eyes away from him, I hesitate for a moment, but I know I am in danger. Only God knows what these men may do to me if I am discovered.

Reluctantly, I push myself to my feet and run, retreating into the shadows and attempting to stay out of sight. The distant but distinct sound of neighing horses echoes through the darkness, and I turn to run in that direction. I hurry to where several are still secured for the night a short distance from the edge of camp. The horses left here are used to pull the wagons and carry supplies, not ride into battle.

The flames engulfing the tents are high and hot, and the beasts' eyes are wild with fear. I approach carefully, my hand up in supplication as I step toward Moondancer. "It is all right, my friend."

She neighs loudly, rearing up on her hind legs.

"Shh, let me help you." I approach carefully, knowing in her spooked state, she could easily harm me.

Her eyes are still wide and frightened, but she calms just enough for me to approach and grasp her reins. I quickly untie them, and she wastes no time in pulling away and running off into the night.

"Be safe," I whisper as she disappears from sight. I hurry to the other horses and untie them as well, releasing them to find safety.

I turn where I stand and watch as the flames light the night sky, devouring the tents and everything else in their path. Men scream as they meet their end, either from fire or the end of an enemy's blade, and I can only pray Edward is not one of them.

The sound of hoofbeats gets my attention, growing louder over the yelling and clashing of metal blades. I look around and see my husband's cousin heading straight for me. Pulling back on the reins, he brings the massive animal to a stop.

"Thank the Gods," he murmurs, relief coloring his tone. "We must leave at once." Holding out his hand, his voice is now urgent.

I shake my head vehemently. "No, Emmett, I will not leave without Edward." I step away from him as my eyes continue to scan the chaos around us, searching for my husband.

"Isabella, there is no sign of him, and we must flee at once. The last order he gave to me was to find and protect you with my life, and I will not let him down." He moves to dismount, and I move further away.

I shake my head. "He was on the battlefield. I saw him. They were restraining him." I look up into Emmett's eyes. "He needs our help. Please, we must go to him," I beg. "You cannot ask me to leave him."

"If they managed to restrain him, there is nothing you and I can do for him. We must go and get you to safety."

I take another step back, shaking my head. "I will not leave without him," I repeat. "I will not."

"That is not up to you, I am afraid," he says as he steps toward me. Grabbing me by the arm, he pulls me into his chest. "If we do not leave, they will eventually find you, and all will be lost. Even if he cannot be saved now—"

"No! Do not say that!" I say, beating on his chest with my fists. "He is alive, I know he is." Sobs overtake me as I continue to lash out at the man trying to help me.

"If he is, My Lady, then he will find his way back to you, but for now, we must go. I made a vow to him that I would get you to safety, and I intend to keep it."

I am still crying as he lifts me up into the saddle and mounts behind me. Pulling me close with one arm, he takes the reins with the other, and we break into a furious gallop. Looking over his shoulder, I watch as the glow of the blazing camp gets smaller and smaller. Slowly, the smell of smoke is replaced by the smells of the forest. My hope—the man who now holds a large place in my heart—has been left behind, and I fear I will never see him again.

* * *

Huddled around a small fire, two of Edward's men sit on either side of me as we attempt to get warm. What few words are spoken among those milling around nearby are quiet. No one is ready to give voice to the worries we all carry.

Their prince, the leader of their army, their friend—my husband—is missing, possibly dead.

As I watch the sun emerge from the horizon, fresh tears fill my eyes. So much was lost last night. So many lives taken in their attempt to defend us; men who will never see another sunrise. Looking around at the bruised, blackened, and bloodied faces, I know it was a valiant effort, yet I am not sure even two dozen remain.

Other than my husband, the face I wish most to see is not among them. Angela was not seen during the battle. Her cries were unheard, and I fear she, too, is lost to me.

A cup is thrust in front of my face. Its steaming contents are not the least bit appetizing, and I shake my head. "No, thank you."

"You must try, My Lady. You must keep up your strength if we are to make it the rest of the way to Galon."

When I look up into Emmett's eyes and see his earnest expression, I nod, reaching for the cup. "Thank you," I whisper. I sip the warm liquid and grimace.

"I did not say it was very good, but it will warm you." He lowers himself to sit beside me and says nothing more.

I nod absentmindedly but say nothing else. Watching the flames dance before my eyes, I let my mind drift to what my future might now be. The only thing I am certain of is the uncertainty of it. I am a new bride who has left behind her home and all she knows. I had counted on my husband guiding me into my new life, helping me navigate my new home and the people in it. Now I am left to wonder how I will manage without him by my side. I close my eyes and swallow the tears that threaten to come. My heart aches at the thought of what he may be enduring.

When I open my eyes, the men have gathered around us. Jasper, a familiar face I am happy to see, stands before them, his back straight and his eyes focused. "We will send a group back to the camp to see if anything is salvageable. Supplies, food, weapons, or anything you find that we may be able to use. Depending on what they were after, there might still be survivors as well."

A soft murmur echoes over the crowd.

"We will do what we can and then return here to plan what is next." He looks around at the faces of his men, many who look as if they just want to return home. "I will say our primary goal has not changed. His Highness commanded that we escort his bride to her new home, and we will fulfill that duty."

No objections come from the men, only nods of agreement, and my heart swells with admiration for them. They could just as easily abandon me, leave me to die in the forest, and no one would be the wiser. No, their loyalty to Edward is apparent.

As the sun creeps higher into the sky, I do not move from my place before the fire. Throughout the day, men stop to stoke the flames or ask me if I need anything, but I simply wave them off, knowing they have more important matters to attend. They come and go until the sun nearly touches the western horizon, some with wagons of half-charred supplies, others empty-handed, and one even returning with the trunks full of my useless frivolity. As the light fades, at least one of my prayers is answered.

Breaking through the tree line is my dearest friend, riding on the back of the animal I thought I would not see again.

"Angela," I whisper as I rise to my feet, my hand covering my mouth. I rush to them, lifting my skirts to run through the muddy snow, not caring if my behavior is unbecoming of a princess.

Benjamin is leading Moondancer by the reins as Angela sits atop her, dirty, disheveled, and in need of rest, but she is a welcome sight. I wait, rather impatiently, as Benjamin helps her down from the mare's back, and I embrace her before she is released.

"I thought you were dead." I hold her close as I sob, releasing some of the emotion I have tried to hold at bay. "I didn't see you or even hear you last night."

"I am safe, My Lady. I am sorry you were worried."

I pull away and hold her at arm's length. "How did you get away? Where have you been?"

She glances over her shoulder at Benjamin and looks back to me. "We were sitting beside one of the fires, talking, when they attacked. Ben protected me and we hid in the forest until daybreak." She looks down shyly as a knot forms in my belly.

Guilt wells from deep inside me as I consider her words; guilt for being angry Benjamin did not stay and fight beside the other men. While they were hiding away in the trees, men died trying to save me, save themselves. But when I think of the alternative—Angela being lost to me forever—I am in Benjamin's debt for keeping her safe.

"We might have gotten lost for a bit." Her bright eyes rise to mine. "But we found Moondancer grazing in a meadow and were able to get her to come to us. We walked along a stream until we heard the sounds of the new camp and followed them, and here we are."

If not for my broken heart, I would laugh at her description. "I am not sure I would call this a camp, but it is where we have been since we retreated last night."

Angela looks around. "What has Edward decided to do? I would guess most of the supplies were lost, were they not? How will we make it to Galon?"

I nod as tears fill my eyes, unable to answer her.

"What is it?"

I shake my head and grasp her hand, leading her back to the fire. We sit on the felled tree I have sat upon most of the day, all while I cling to her hand.

"My Lady?" she whispers. "What is it?"

"He is gone." My voice cracks on the last word, my tears once again flowing freely.

"Gone? As in ... Is he _dead_, My Lady?"

I close my eyes for a moment before finally turning toward her. "I do not know. He was in the battle last night, and I saw him, but he was being ... being restrained. I do not know if they killed him or captured him ... if he is alive. All I know is he is not here."

I turn my attention back to the fire as Angela holds more tightly to my hand. We sit in silence, both of us undoubtedly worried about our futures, though for different reasons, I am sure.

As twilight is upon us, the men have regrouped, all of them back from their tasks. Before any other words are spoken or orders are given, talk of their fallen comrades begins.

"Seventy-two dead. We lit a pyre for them and said a few words." Michael hesitates, and I raise my eyes to him. "Everyone was accounted for, save two."

"And who are the two?" Jasper stands before the group, his arms crossed over his chest.

"That would be His Highness and ... Sir Alec."

The murmuring among the crowd grows louder, but Jasper attempts to quiet them. "Quiet! We do not know what it means, only that they are missing, which is a good thing. It means there is hope he is still alive, and we all know him well enough to know if he's still alive, he plans to give them hell. It is only a matter of time before he is back with us."

Nods of agreement from the men make me smile, knowing they have so much faith in Edward gives me hope.

"We need to act quickly. We do not know what they want with him, but I know it is a bad idea to leave him in their hands for too long. So, here is what we will do. I will take a dozen men and try to track them. The sooner we follow, the better chance we have of finding them. The rest of you will accompany Emmett and escort the Princess to Galon, inform the king of what has happened. He will likely send more troops, so I will send a messenger back once I have located Edward. Do any of you have any questions?"

They all respond with shakes of their heads.

"Good. Then I want ten men on guard duty while the rest of us sleep. We will change the guard every few hours. Remember, Edward left his bride's safety in our hands, and I will not let him down. We leave at daybreak tomorrow."

* * *

The only tent recovered is the one I shared with Edward, which was merely blackened by the flames. It has been erected in the circle of men who sleep outside on the ground, huddled together for warmth. But sleep does not come easily to me. Even though Angela and I have shelter from the night, I am unable to rest, knowing Edward is out there somewhere, injured, likely in pain. Angela, though, clings to me in her sleep. If nothing else, I am able to give her comfort and keep her warm, but my inability to sleep allows my mind to drift to places I would rather it not go.

_What are they doing to him? _

_Is he even still alive?_

_Why was Edward not beside me when I woke? _

_Why did he leave me nearly unprotected, save for Michael and a few other men?_

_What will my life be like in Galon, now that my husband is missing? _

When the sun finally rises, it is a welcome relief from my plaguing thoughts.

I dress and wrap myself in Edward's too-long cloak, welcoming its familiar scent and warmth. Making my way out of the tent, I am greeted with polite nods and the occasional _"good morning." _I return them with all the enthusiasm I can muster.

With our shelter torn down and packed for the day, the small fires extinguished, and very little in the way of supplies to pack, we have nothing left to do but mount our horses and leave.

"Are you ready, My Lady?" Emmett asks as he holds Moodancer's reins in his hand.

I nod and place my foot in the stirrup, raising myself into the saddle. A rueful smile plays on my lips as I remember arguing with my husband about this very thing.

Emmett mounts his horse and organizes the men while I am lost to my thoughts. "Shall we be off?" he asks, breaking me from my memories.

I nod but say nothing.

The men form a protective line around us, keeping Angela, Emmett and myself in the center, and begin to move.

With one final look in the direction I last saw my husband, I whisper my wish into the morning breeze, hopeful it will be carried to him. "Please return to me."

I turn and face the men who will now be the ones to guide me home. "Lead the way."

* * *

**A/N: Gah! Okay, so before you all form a mob and hunt me down, I have a surprise for you lovely readers. I've written an outtake in Edward's POV for the Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation fundraiser. It will cover what he endures during his absence from the main story. Here's the title and summary.**

**Captive: a Dominion of My Heart outtake  
**

**Summary: Taken in the dark of night, Edward endures the cruelty of his enemies, both old and new. Will he be able to survive his captivity? An outtake written in EPOV, these are the events following those in chapter eleven of Dominion of My Heart.**

**For details on how to donate to receive your copy of the compilation and a peek at the teaser and banner later this week, please visit the public Facebook page, Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation. You can also visit the website, batbcomp. blogspot. com (just remove the spaces) for donation details. The compilation will be released on December 1, 2019, and I will be able to post the outtake to my FFN profile on or after March 1, 2020. **

**No rec's this week, because I'm super behind and haven't had a chance to catch my breath! But I'll be back with some next week! **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	13. Chapter 12

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. I'm a chronic fiddler, so all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

The days following the ambush and Edward's disappearance are difficult in ways I never could have imagined. The air is colder, the nights are darker, and the distance feels longer. Being without him causes me an ache, deep inside, like I have never known. Other than the ache, I am numb; emotionally, physically. I pay no mind to the sores and bruises from riding such long days in the saddle.

At my insistence, we are traveling later and rising earlier to make it to Galon as quickly as possible. Emmett attempts to change my mind, begging me to stop and rest, but I convince him it is best for all of us if we press forward. After all, so many men are injured, men who still need their wounds attended to. I cannot, in good conscience, delay our travels any longer than necessary simply for the sake of my comfort.

Even though it is difficult to trudge ahead knowing we have left Edward behind, I am restless and anxious to move on. The weather remains unfavorable. Rain and snow bear down on us, and our unknown enemy could be still out there, waiting for us. We have no choice but to rise each day and move at first light.

The long days in the saddle, though, give me far too much time to think. Even if it is what my husband wanted, it feels wrong to travel the road to Galon, knowing he has been left behind. Worry for his safety and well-being eat away at me, yet I move forward. I can only pray my fortitude would make him proud. With each step away from him, though, the deeper the ache within me grows.

* * *

Days pass, but eventually, the rain and snow recede, and the landscape begins to green before my eyes as we reach the lower elevations. The excited murmurs of the men grow when we pass several natural landmarks, which lead me to believe we are growing closer to our destination. And soon, my suspicions are proven correct.

"We have crossed into our lands, My Lady." Emmett's sad smile greets me when I look upon his face.

"We have made it to Galon?" I sit forward in the saddle, my tired eyes wide as I take in the sights before me.

The evening sun has nearly met the horizon, casting a golden red glow upon everything the light touches. I smile to myself, realizing Edward was right; the gown I wore to wed him truly does reflect the beauty of a Galon sunset.

"Yes, we have. I will send the most injured men ahead to let the king and queen know we have arrived, but since we have nearly another full day of travel before we reach the castle, we will make camp for one more night. There is a hot spring not too far from here where you can bathe once the sun rises. I am sure you wish to take extra time to ready yourself to meet the king and queen."

I look down at my dress, dirty and frayed from our journey. It is no way to greet my new king and queen. "Of course," I murmur, suddenly uneasy about how this meeting may go.

Sensing my insecurity, Emmett rides up beside me and speaks softly. "Do not be afraid, My Lady. The men, well, they have grown rather fond of you since we left Adwen, and especially since the attack. They have seen your selflessness, your willingness to continue the journey when others in your position might have needed days to recover enough to go on. The king and queen will adore you, as we all do." He bends down just enough to catch my eye and smiles.

I smile up at him. "Thank you. I believe I needed to hear that."

* * *

The hot spring is a welcome sight. The steam rising into the cool morning air beckons me, inviting me to indulge in this simple luxury. And after Angela helps me strip down, I step into the warm water and allow it to wash away my worries, if only briefly.

As Angela washes my hair, I close my eyes and relish the quiet of the moment. I know Emmett and a few of the other men are standing guard some distance away, and it allows me to relax for the first time in many days. It is a moment of serenity I desperately need. For what is to come today, I will need all my strength to face it alone.

"My Lady," Angela whispers. "Your hair is washed. Are you ready to step out so I can help you dress?"

After taking a final deep breath and blowing it out, I open my eyes. "I believe I am as ready as I will ever be," I say softly.

Meeting my friend's eyes, I find compassion, and dare I say, understanding. After all, she has always been able to read me. "I know you did not think you would be meeting them without your husband by your side," she begins in a whisper, "but I truly believe he is with you in spirit. You said he chose you, yes?"

I nod.

"Then there must be some reason, something he saw in you that told him you were the right woman to stand by his side. So, stand tall when you meet them today, knowing you were chosen by their son. Your place is here, and when he returns, he will be happy to know you took your rightful place in the family."

I reach for her hand and squeeze it. "Thank you, Angela."

She smiles and nods once. "Of course. Now, let us get you dressed and ready to meet our king and queen."

* * *

With each step the horses take, I notice the changes in the landscape. Dense forest eventually gives way to fields and farmsteads; the richness of this land is evident.

The fields, vast and far-reaching, are already cleared of this year's harvest. The air is crisp, like a winter morning; fresh and clean. The people we pass on the road leading to the castle wave excitedly as our group nears the heart of Galon. Children laugh and play alongside their parents as they tend to their business, and their smiles are the biggest of them all. From my position in the saddle, I return their friendly greetings with a small smile and wave of my own.

I try to absorb the sights, sounds, and smells of my new homeland, but it is difficult. This is not the way I envisioned my arrival in this new land. From the day I accepted Edward's proposal, I imagined riding through Galon's gates, side by side, but that is not to be. I can only pray that wherever he may be, he is alive and fighting to come home.

I feel his absence with each step we take.

The nearer we get to the outer walls of the city, the greater my anxiety becomes. My heart races, my stomach twists, and my grip on Moondancer's reins tightens.

"The people will love you."

I peer up at my husband's cousin, his dimpled cheeks on full display with his smile, even though his focus in on the road ahead.

"And why do you think that?"

"Because they will be able to see the kindness in your eyes"—he turns his head just enough to catch my eye—"as we all did the moment we met you."

"Oh? Did you all speak of me after that first feast? Is it you I have to thank for Edward asking for my hand?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "While I might admit to telling my dear cousin what I thought of you, the decision to ask for your hand was entirely his." He turns his head fully to meet my gaze. "And I can say with absolute certainty Edward was smitten from the moment he laid eyes on you."

I smile at the memory of our first meeting—Edward's amusement at my comment to Bree about stable boys and fancy dresses—and my eyes well with the tears that seem ever-present since the day of the attack.

A large, warm hand covers mine. "We will do everything possible to bring him home, My Lady. Please know that." Emmett's warm smile is comforting. "And in the meantime, I will do my best to make sure you are comfortable in your new home." He pauses, and his eyes brighten in excitement. "I am sure my wife, Rosalie, and my daughter, Emily, will be happy to help you settle in."

"I would like that very much. Thank you."

He simply nods and releases my hand. We ride in silence until we reach the outskirts of the city.

The small farms and farmhouses lining the road leading to the castle grow closer. As we near the gates, the countryside turns into a village before my eyes, with merchants selling their wares instead of farmers along the road. Some people stop to watch us go by, while many others rush past us as the horses walk at a leisurely pace.

"Where are they going?"

"Probably to gather inside the city. I am sure there is already a crowd there to meet us once we reach the gates."

"But why?" My grip on the reins tightens. "I would expect it if our arrival had gone as planned, but it has not. Do they not know Edward has not returned with us?"

"I am sure many of them do, My Lady, but they are excited to catch a glimpse of their new princess, regardless."

I am overwhelmed by the prospect of so many wishing to merely lay eyes on me, and as we approach the gates, the crowd seems to thicken. Their smiles and enthusiastic cheers have my full attention until Emmett speaks.

"We have arrived, My Lady. Welcome to Masenthorne Castle."

At his welcome, I sit straight in the saddle and take in the sight before me. The outer walls are tall, almost ominous in their appearance. Large, thick stones bound together by mortar make up the wide expanse surrounding the castle. When we pass through the outer gate, we are greeted by the men guarding it. Though obviously not prone to bouts of emotion, they offer nods of welcome and approval as we pass by.

The outer courtyard contains a church, as well as the stables. Most of Edward's men and what little cargo we have is diverted there, and the rest of us continue on toward the castle's inner gates. Guards are posted to our right and to our left, maintaining order amongst the throng of people who line the path toward the drawbridge. Even being held back, they give us a cheerful welcome.

"See, they already love you," Emmett says from beside me.

His words warm me, but I cannot help but be saddened I am not sharing this with my husband. I can only imagine the reception this would be if their prince and protector had returned home with me.

"I only hope I do not disappoint them." My words are spoken softly, but I know he hears me when he reaches over to squeeze my hand in acknowledgment.

The massive timbers of the drawbridge are the first thing I notice as we approach. They are thick and strong and are connected to large links of chain fastened to the stone-fortified castle walls. The heavy door which seals the fortress makes for a hefty bridge, able to support the weight of several horses.

The thudding of hooves rumbles the timbers beneath us as we traverse the moat, deep and wide below us. New sights surround me, and my attention is drawn to everything as we cross. The thick, steel portcullis hanging precariously over our heads with its sharpened points aimed down toward us is a menacing sight. The enormity of the steel gate alone reminds me of the safety and security of my new home. There are even archers stationed atop the entrance as we ride through.

The sun shines in the brief expanse between the two gates, the passage through the innermost wall surrounding the keep, and I see just how massive the wall is that offers its protection. But once we pass the shadow of the second gate, our path opens into another wide courtyard. Green grass and stone paths leading from corridor to corridor lay just before the steps of the keep.

Standing upon them are a man and woman with crowns upon their heads.

A herald stands at the ready as we near, and apprehension creeps up my spine. Without having Edward by my side, I know I need to make a good impression. Their opinion of their new daughter is important to me, and I hope I do not disappoint them ... or my husband, even in his absence. Being the third daughter of a king, I am not as prepared as my sisters would have been for such a role. Doing this alone is doubly more difficult.

Following Emmett's lead, I pull back on Moondancer's reins, bringing her to a stop. The man I have begun to think of as my _own_ cousin dismounts and steps to my side, offering his hand to help me down. Nerves seize my belly, and I inhale deeply, saying a small prayer my feet reach the ground without any stumbling on my part. With so many eyes upon me, I fear I will embarrass myself.

As if he can read my thoughts, Emmett extends a second hand and grasps me at my waist, lifting me from my horse as if I weigh no more than a feather.

With a trembling hand, I grasp his when I am steady and offer a small smile. "Thank you," I whisper.

"Your Majesties, may I present Her Royal Highness, Princess Isabella." The herald's announcement is met with a brief silence before I remember I am to curtsy before the man I presume to be King Carlisle. I move slowly yet surely, greeting him as I have my own father so many times.

"Welcome to Galon, Isabella." Stone-faced, his critical gaze lingers on me for a moment, and he then turns to his nephew. "And, Emmett, welcome home."

Already lowered to one knee, he nods once before replying. "It is good to be home, Your Majesty."

"We apparently have much to discuss due to the troubles you encountered on your journey. However, we will need to move our discussion to a more appropriate location."

Emmett rises. "Of course, My Lord. I am at your disposal."

The king nods. "Very well." He turns to the woman who has been standing patiently at his side. "Perhaps you could show Isabella to her chambers."

"Yes, of course, My Lord. I would be happy to."

King Carlisle nods once before turning back to Emmett, ushering him from the courtyard with a mere tilt of his head.

"You will be in good hands with our lovely queen," Emmett says with a wink before disappearing into the corridors leading away from the courtyard.

Warm, gentle hands grasp my own, and as I turn to greet the person they belong to, I am met with kindness and what appears to be affection. Familiar green eyes, swimming with tears, stare back at me, and her smile is as welcoming as I could hope for under the circumstances.

"It is so very good to finally meet you, Isabella." Without warning, she embraces me, her warm arms wrapping me in an unexpected hug.

"You as well, Your Majesty." Too stunned to say any more, I merely return her embrace, reveling in her attention.

"I only wish Edward were here with us to make the introductions," she says softly, holding me just a little closer.

I squeeze her a little more tightly. "As do I."

After a long moment, she releases me and steps back, discreetly wiping at her eyes. "I am sure you are tired from your journey."

"A bit, Your Majesty."

She laughs and hooks her arm through mine, leading me toward the corridor. "Then I shall see you to your chambers and make sure you have a warm bath and a meal brought to you. We have much to discuss, but there is plenty of time for that."

"Thank you."

We walk in silence through the halls, passing curious servants as we go. The walk to my chambers is long and winding, taking us up a stone staircase to the second level. The corridors of Masenthorne Castle are dim, lit only by torches placed every ten or fifteen paces, and it does not take long for me to become disoriented.

"I am sure to get lost if left to wander on my own," I whisper to myself, but the queen hears me.

"Undoubtedly. Though I am certain it will not take you long to learn your way around."

"It may be a few days before I am settled enough to even consider walking the grounds or exploring."

She pats my arm with her free hand. "And I expect there will be many people willing to be your guide when you are ready."

"Will I get to meet Lady Alice soon?"

"Oh, yes! She is quite excited to meet you. She is still recovering from childbirth, though, so it may be a few days before she feels well enough to venture out of her chambers."

"She's had her baby?" I ask excitedly. It is the first bit of happy news I have heard in many, many days.

"She has. A son. Jameson of House Whitlock." She smiles ruefully. "Alice nearly exhausted herself in the days leading up to the delivery. She was incredibly excited to celebrate your marriage and was helping me plan a feast upon your return." Her sad eyes meet mine. "But when we received word Edward was missing and that Jasper went to find him ... well, it will be put on hold until they return home."

"I pray it will be soon," I whisper.

She pats my hand as we approach the door to my chambers. The door is open, and we step inside.

I walk to the center of the spacious sitting room, taking in the details of it all. The tall, stone walls are dark, covered in heavy tapestries, but the glow of the roaring fireplace casts a warm light over them. Offering enough space for several people to visit, the plush furniture appears comfortable and inviting.

"I hope this is acceptable. I was not sure what you would like, but I tried to see to it you would be comfortable."

"It is lovely," I say, turning to offer a smile.

I walk through the room, my hand passing over the soft fabrics of the settee and armchair, on my way to the window. The view is to the west, and the heat of the afternoon sun is only beginning to reach us.

"Being farther north, you will come to appreciate the added heat the afternoon sun provides on cold winter days."

"I am sure I will," I whisper.

The queen clears her throat and speaks, gaining my attention. "I hope you do not mind, but I chose your chambers with my son in mind." Her eyes glisten, but again, she clears her throat and presses on. "When we received word of his marriage, I had his things moved to the rooms adjoining these. There is a passageway that connects them, and, well, I had hoped it would be easier for him to visit you."

My cheeks heat and my gaze lowers to my feet.

"Please, child, do not be embarrassed. It is our duty as princesses and queens to make sure our husbands have an heir." Her voice drops. "I only wish you had been given more time with my son before ..."

My hands move to my flat stomach, the sadness I feel at my husband's absence making the ache return.

She steps closer and takes my hand. "I know you did not have very long together, but I must know. Was he good to you?" she asks quietly.

I nod and smile, tears filing my eyes once more. "He was very good to me, Your Majesty."

Again, she hugs me, and I return her embrace. "You do not know how happy I am to hear that."

We finally pull apart, both of us wiping our eyes. Unable to meet her gaze, my eyes fall to the floor. The queen though, takes a breath and blows it out before she speaks. "Now, do not feel the need to make any appearances before you are ready. Whatever things might need your attention can wait. And I do not wish to see you at court until you have fully rested. I will see to it everything you may need is brought to your rooms." She gently grasps my chin and waits until I raise my eyes to hers. "And Isabella?"

"Yes?"

"It is an absolute joy to have you join our household. Please come to me if you need anything at all."

I nod once. "Of course, Your Majesty."

She carefully grasps both my arms, and along with her tears, I can see the conviction in her eyes. "Edward may not have returned with you, but you are now my daughter. When it is just us, I would be so very pleased if you would call me mother."

My heart soars at the thought. Never before have I had anyone to bestow such a title upon. "I would very much like that," I say softly and with a small smile, getting one from her in return.

Her parting embrace is every bit as warm as the others she has given me, and I am left with a reminder to expect a bath to be delivered as well as a warm meal.

Once she has taken her leave, I sit on the settee before the fire, and stare into the flames. The pop and crackle are soothing sounds, and I rest my head and close my eyes. I must drift off, because when I next open them, I am met with the smiling face of my friend.

"My Lady?"

"I am sorry, Angela. I must have fallen asleep. Please forgive me."

"There is no need, My Lady. It is to be expected. We've had a rather taxing journey." She busies herself with laying out the things I need to bathe before turning to me. "If you're ready, My Lady?"

I realize I must have slept through someone delivering the tub and warm water when I notice the swirls of steam behind her. "Of course. Though I do think it a bit indulgent to have yet another bath."

Angela chuckles softly, shaking her head. "Indulgent? Perhaps, but the warm water will do much to relax you. And after you eat, you can catch up on the rest you need."

She helps me undress and secure my hair into a braid upon my head before she holds my hand as I lower myself into the tub. I breathe a sigh of contentment as I sink down into the warm water. "I know I bathed just this morning, but I am glad the queen insisted on this."

Angela says nothing as she begins to pour cup after cup of the scented water over me. We sit in silence as she works, and I allow myself to relax.

"Have they shown you to your quarters?" I ask, my eyes still closed. "Perhaps you can see to a bath of your own and rest. You've more than earned it."

"That sounds rather nice," she says softly. "And yes, I've been shown my quarters, and they're lovely. In fact, I am just next door."

"So close? That is wonderful."

"It is. I will be but a call away when you need me."

Knowing I will need her more than ever in the coming days, it is something for which I am quite thankful.

* * *

**A/N: Well, she's made it to Galon. How do you feel about the welcome she received? What do you think is next for her? **

**I've been an utter fail at review replies lately, and unfortunately, I don't see that getting better any time soon. :( Please know I love and appreciate each and every one of them. They're helping me write faster, so thank you. Xoxo**

**And now time for some recs!**

**A Crack in the Door by jane-with-a-y. Summary: A lonely bartender on Cape Cod and a mysterious girl next door. Who is this girl, and why does she cry every night? More importantly, why does he care? Together they form a tentative friendship through a crack between their doors. Will the crack open wide enough to let love in? A story of intimacy, healing and hope.**

**A Southern Gentleman by Mrs. Brownloe has updated! I'm incredibly excited about it, because Mrs. B is one of my favorite authors, so it's great to see her back to finish this one. She writes some incredibly sweet Edwards. *sigh* Summary: Honor, duty and gentility were the guiding principles of a southern gentleman. So, there was only one thing to do when Edward discovered the truth of something that happened long ago, something he was honor-bound to repair if it took him the rest of his life.**

**The BotheredContest is in the final days of voting. The poll will be open through this Sunday, 9/15, so go read and vote if you haven't yet. :) **

**TFN's Inked Contest is still open for submissions through this month, so be sure to check it out. :) **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	14. Chapter 13

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. I'm a chronic fiddler, so all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

It has been more difficult than I imagined settling into my new home without my husband. The usual chill that chases you through the halls of a stone fortress such as Masenthorne Castle has caught me and taken up residence in my bones. I am listless, unable to leave my rooms. I am sure no one at court would like to watch their new princess sniffle and cry, though, so I do not feel too badly about sequestering myself in my chambers.

I turn away callers, knowing I am putting distance between myself and those who are trying to help me. The queen sends messengers each day to check on me, and the king has sent messengers of his own, though his are to request my presence at court. Lady Rosalie is especially persistent, but I cannot bring myself to rise from my bed and put on a happy face to greet her or anyone else. It would be a lie. So instead, I ignore the knocks and bury my head beneath my blankets.

I sleep too long and eat too little. My despondency is alarming, even to me. Angela is the one person who sees me daily. She does her best to encourage me to eat, to dress, and engage in conversation, but the one thing I desperately need that she cannot do is find any word on where Edward is.

According to the news she is able to bring me, the messenger Jasper promised to send has yet to come.

I struggle to offer Angela a small smile as she places my morning meal on the table before the fire but says nothing else. I watch her as she goes about her usual morning routine after she has woken me and brought me my meal. The bed is made, no matter how pointless it is. I will only find my way back there after I have eaten.

It is eerily similar to our day-to-day routine back in Adwen, before I was swept up in the fantasy of a new life with a man who cared for me. But that is now all but a distant dream.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I turn back to watch the fire and am mesmerized by the flames. It is a curious thing how something so simple, so necessary in our daily lives could destroy so much and take away people we care for.

A knock on the door breaks me from my melancholy thoughts as Angela steps to answer it. She only cracks open the heavy door enough to speak to whomever is on the other side. After a moment, she nods, curtseys, and closes it.

"Who was it?" I ask, my voice raspy from disuse.

"It was a messenger for Lady Whitlock. She is requesting an audience with you if you are able to come to her chambers later today."

I straighten my back, surprised at the invitation. "Oh," I say simply. My hand moves to the tangled hair on my head as I look down at myself and see the sorry state I'm in. Still dressed in the same shift from several days ago, I am sure I look a fright.

"Today?" I croak.

"Yes, My Lady. The messenger mentioned perhaps sharing the midday meal with the princess."

I place the cup of tea I have been holding on the tray and sit back against the settee, staring at the fire. "I am not sure I am ready to see anyone," I finally admit in a small voice. I tear my eyes from the flames to look up at my friend. "She is Edward's sister, and I do not know if I am ready to face her without him."

The weak hold I have had on my composure finally snaps, and again I find myself sobbing in Angela's arms.

"Shh, My Lady. All will be well. You will see." She runs a soothing hand over my head and down my back and I quiet. "Perhaps this is just what you need—to meet her. She is your husband's sister, after all. Can you truly refuse her?"

"I have so far refused a king," I mumble.

She pulls back enough to meet my eyes. "Which is just one more reason to see her. It may be better to ease into spending time in others' company before you present yourself to the court and the king."

I wipe away the wet tracks from my cheeks. "I am unsure I will ever be ready to face the court."

"Isabella," she says softly, "I believe it is what Edward would want you to do. He may not be by your side, but as his wife, you are here to represent him, are you not?"

I stare down at my lap, wiping at my nose as my tears begin to subside. "I do not want to do it without him," I whisper.

She wraps an arm around my shoulders. "I know you do not, but you need to leave your rooms. It is not healthy to stay locked away from everyone. You need the fresh air and the company, if you do not mind me saying so."

I look up at her and smile ruefully. "But I have you."

"And you will always have me, but I think it is a good idea to meet your new sister." She tilts my chin up to make sure I meet her eyes. "She is your family now. He would want you to meet her."

It does not take me long to decide, and I nod my head in agreement. "I will meet my new sister."

It takes most of the morning to make me presentable. An hour alone is spent brushing the tangles from my hair. Choosing a dress is another point of contention. I fret over the formality of the meeting and cannot decide if a formal gown is required or if a simple dress would be more appropriate. Tired of my indecision, Angela finally decides for me, and before I am ready for it, I find myself being pushed out the door and into the maze of halls.

Thankfully, there is a guard stationed at the end of the corridor, and he is more than happy to lead us to Alice's chambers.

Steered up more stairs and down yet another hall, into a wing I've not yet been in, we finally arrive at our destination. Before the guard can announce our presence, the cries of a baby pierce the air.

"Should we—" Before I can ask if we should return another time, the guard proceeds to knock, his knuckles a harsh rap against the door.

Guilt at disturbing the new mother begins to seep in, but the door opens at once.

"Princess Isabella for Lady Whitlock," the guard announces.

The servant standing at the door nods and steps aside, and I am met with the tired, yet joyful face of a young woman.

"Isabella!" Small in stature and delicate in her features, she is not at all what I imagined she would be. "It is so good to meet you." She rushes toward me and embraces me, much like the queen did when we first met.

"And you as well, My Lady."

She pulls away and waves a dismissive hand. "No need for formalities here. Please call me Alice. We are sisters, after all."

I smile at her warm welcome. "I would like that very much, Alice." Realizing I am genuinely smiling for the first time in days, my smile grows wider.

"Come, sit. We have so much to talk about." She takes me by the hand and ushers me into her chambers, toward a pair of chairs sitting before the fire. "There are so many things I would love to ask you, so you will have to excuse me if I seem intrusive." Her eyes dim, if only a little. "I would just very much like to get to know the woman whom my brother chose to marry."

"And I am looking forward to getting to know you as well."

She nods and smiles as one of the servants delivers a tray of food, placing it on the low table between our chairs.

"You will have to excuse the informality of our meeting. It has just been so hard to return to court after giving birth. It is a lot more difficult than I thought it would be to care for him and still get enough rest to feel human."

"No, it is all right. I much prefer informal." I reach for a small plate and place it on the linen cloth lying over my lap, looking at her from the corner of my eye. I give her a small smile. "I have been out of sorts myself since I arrived. I do not believe I am ready to be presented to the court just yet."

Her grin is wide as she pats my hand. "Perhaps we can make our debut together? You the new princess of Galon, and me a new mother." She giggles and leans in close. "It would give the gossips something new to talk about at the very least." She pulls back, still smiling as she sits straight. "So, tell me about yourself, sister. What about you captivated my brother so much he had no choice but to marry you?"

I shake my head. "There is not much to tell, really. I am the youngest of three, and I have no idea why Edward would ask for my hand and not that of one of my older sisters."

Again, she leans in closely. "You have two sisters? Oh, what fun you must've had! I always wished for a sister."

"We were not very close," I say softly.

"Well, that is a shame, is it not?" She pats my hand. "But now my wish has come true, and you are _my_ sister. I can already predict we will be quite close."

"That would be lovely."

We chat over our meal—I tell her of my life in Adwen, and she tells me stories of a young Edward always getting into mischief.

"And I think he smelled of manure for weeks after that! But you can be sure he didn't try to hide in the rafters of the stables any longer." We both laugh, but it soon turns wistful, and the atmosphere shifts.

"You truly miss him, don't you?"

I nod, my glassy eyes meeting hers. "I really do."

She reaches across the space between us and takes my hand. "I have a feeling he will not be lost for long, sister. I have faith he will return."

"How can you be so sure? And how can you remain so positive?"

"It is not without great difficulty, let me assure you." She laughs mirthlessly before turning serious. "It helps to have another person depending on me for his survival. I know it is entirely my responsibility to care for my son so I can present him to my husband when he returns." She pauses, thoughtful of her next words as her eyes shine with unshed tears. "To believe Edward will return is to believe Jasper will as well. And I cannot accept a future where he does not."

"I wish I had your conviction. I find it hard to even rise from my bed each day." I shake my head. "I could go days not speaking to another soul just to have the freedom to wallow in my sadness."

"But we must not allow ourselves to wallow, sister."

"It is difficult not to," I admit in a whisper. She studies me, making me uncomfortable as I sit across from her. "What?" I finally ask.

"You care for him."

"Of course I do. He's my husband." I furrow my brow, confused about why she would ask me something so obvious.

She smiles and shakes her head. "No, I mean you genuinely care for him, more than what is expected of us as women who should honor their duty and all that other nonsense." The dismissive wave of her hand makes me smile. "What I mean to say is he's found a place in your heart, hasn't he?" she asks softly.

I nod. "He has. And I did not realize how much of it he'd taken until he was gone."

"Then we must lean on each other until our husbands return, and when they do, we will be able to tell them how much they mean to us."

"He does mean a great deal to me. More than I thought possible in such a short time," I say softly.

She squeezes my hand once more. "You are everything I'd hoped he would find in a wife, and while you say he has stolen away with a part of your heart, he's undoubtedly left his with you."

"Then I shall do my best to care for it."

She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can utter a word, the cries of a babe grow louder as an older woman steps into the room.

"Excuse me, My Lady, but it seems the little Lord is in need of his mother."

"Of course, Irina." She reaches for the child and brings him to her bosom, quieting him with softly spoken words. When she begins to unfasten the ties of her gown, I realize what she is about to do, and my eyes grow wide.

I rise from my chair, ready to make a quick escape, mumbling my apologies.

She reaches for me, her small hand grasping my forearm. "No, sit, please. This will only take a few moments. I hope it is not presumptuous of me to assume you would be all right with me feeding him in your company." She laughs softly as she looks down at the baby cradled against her. "I am still getting comfortable with it myself."

"No," I say as I return to my seat, slightly embarrassed at watching her feed her son. "It is fine. I have just never known a noblewoman to feed her own children. I apologize if my reaction offended you."

She laughs, and it is a happier sound than I have yet to hear her make. "It was not without a fight, I will assure you. My father could not understand why I would choose to stay away from court for so long to do something I could have hired a wet nurse to do." She stares lovingly down to the child in her arms. "But once he was born, I could not imagine anyone else caring for him." She looks up to me. "And it is the greatest feeling in the world."

A sad smile crosses my lips, mournful of my missed opportunity to experience this for myself.

"Isabella, I truly believe they will return. Do not give up hope just yet."

I will not give up. Hope is the only thing I have to hold onto.

* * *

Knowing that I must eventually make my appearance at court, I push myself to get out of bed each day. Visiting Alice, going to visit with little Jameson, is difficult at first, but it becomes easier as the days go on, soon becoming the one bright spot in my days. On my fifth visit, Rosalie joins us, and she is every bit as wonderful as Emmett described. Her beauty is unmatched and somewhat exotic here in Galon, where the people tend to have darker hair and stronger features. No, Rosalie has hair so light it looks as if a ray of sunlight dropped down from the heavens just to kiss her head. With her bright blue eyes, eyes almost the color of the wildflowers from the meadow in Adwen, and her pale skin, her beauty is stunning.

Her warm, welcoming nature is the most beautiful thing about her, though.

Through my talks with Alice and Rosalie, I soon learn whom I would do well to avoid at court, and which servants are the most trusted. They have shown me care and kindness I was not expecting, and it is beginning to feel like I have found my place here in Galon.

They also draw me out and encourage me to visit the chantry, reminding me to pray for my husband's safe return. The waking hours I do not spend with Alice and Rosalie, I spend deep in prayer with their priest, Elder Afton, watching over me. I have spent enough time observing their rituals and prayer times, and I feel confident when I pray to the Gods of this land. While I have not learned all I need to know about my new people's religion, I believe my God and all of theirs will hear my earnestness and grant me their ear.

When the first frost blankets the landscape, the coldness I have felt since arriving goes deeper than my bones, seeping into my soul. The sun shines less, and it is more difficult to remain positive. An entire cycle of the moon has passed since I arrived, and still we have no word from Jasper.

If I thought myself despondent before, it only worsens as time moves on.

While the queen has been content to let me settle into life in Masenthorne Castle undisturbed, the king is impatient for me to show my face at court. Knowing it is not wise to continue to refuse my king's wishes, today I am making my first appearance. It is not something I am looking forward to.

As I dress, I worry over each and every detail of my gown, concerned I will make a bad first impression on the court.

"You look lovely." Alice's voice from her place in the doorway startles me.

"As do you, sister," I reply.

She looks down at herself, smoothing her hands over the fine fabrics of her own dress. "Do you truly think so?" she asks nervously. "I had such trouble adjusting it to fit." Her eyes meet mine, and a smile graces her face. "I am not quite the size I was before I had little James."

I stand and walk to her side. "Yes, I really think so. I am sure you will make quite the entrance."

"I am sure _we_ will make quite the entrance. Everyone will be eager to get a glimpse of their new princess."

"Oh, Alice, please do not remind me. The mere thought of everyone watching me, judging me, makes me want to hide away in my chambers."

She takes my trembling hands in hers. "It is time to face the court and show them what a wonderful princess they have. And remember, I will be beside you each step of the way."

I smile, but nerves steal my voice. All I can do is nod in agreement as she leads me from my chambers toward my official introduction at court.

The throne room is nearly full when we arrive. Lords and ladies mill around, waiting for the king. As I expected, all eyes are on us when we walk through the doors, and it is all I can do not to turn around and run from the room. I am spared further curious glances when King Carlisle arrives and takes his seat on the throne while Queen Esme takes hers beside him.

My pulse beats in my ears, and I close my eyes as I take a few deep breaths, holding tightly to Alice's hand. I sense another's presence, and when I turn to see who is standing so closely to me, I am met with the smiling face of Rosalie.

"You did not think I would let you suffer through this alone, did you?" she asks as she places her hand on my forearm. She leans in close, whispering, "We are here for you, My Lady."

I smile in return, a genuine smile, and turn my focus back to the front of the room.

King Carlisle sits upon his throne, his stoic expression giving me pause. Even without the stories Edward told me about his father, I know he is a powerful and intimidating man. The way his eyes scan the crowd makes me uneasy. It is almost as if he is searching for a target. When his gaze falls on me, I do my best to stand straight and look him directly in his eyes, but his stare is fixed on me. He appears to be studying me, focused, all while the herald announces the first man to come before the throne. But before the man can be called to approach our king, Carlisle speaks over the herald.

"I believe we have a new arrival at court." All eyes turn to me. "Isabella? Won't you please come and say hello?" While it appears to be a request, everyone here knows it is not.

With a final squeeze of their hands, Alice and Rosalie release me to walk before the king. I step slowly yet carefully through the crowd as it parts, allowing me to pass. I keep my eyes to the floor, so as not to stumble as I approach.

Once I finally reach the open space before the throne, I lower myself into a deep curtsy. "Your Majesty."

"It is good of you to finally join us."

I try not to let the King's acerbic tone affect me, but I am sure it shows on my face when the queen gives me a look of sympathy.

I clear my throat and attempt to reply. "I must apologize, Your Majesty. It has been—"

"Over a month since you arrived," he interrupts. "While I understand it must be a difficult adjustment, having been transplanted to a new home where your every need is being met, it is no excuse for your dismissal of my orders." He sits straighter, his elbow now resting on the arm of his throne. "Unlike the miserable excuse for a king your father is, I expect my subjects to pay attention when I speak." His eyes narrow on me. "I am pleased you have decided to join us, but I will not be ignored in the future."

"Yes, My Lord," I whisper.

He nods once and waves me away.

I walk, unseeingly, back to Alice and Rosalie, and they each grasp an arm, holding me upright. I knew the king would not take kindly to me ignoring his summons, but I didn't expect to be scolded publicly. After coming face to face with him, I feel as if I have already made an enemy.

* * *

**A/N: Anyone else want to give this girl a hug? And what did we think of Alice? Of Rosalie? **

**A lot of you are asking about how long Edward will be missing. I can't say much, but hang in there. It'll be a bit yet. ;) **

**And now time for some recs!**

**Completed ... Painting Peace by BixieRosen is a sci-fi story that was really great. Summary: Two neighbouring moons are locked in a century long interplanetary war. When the possibility of peace is given, Bella has no option but to leave behind all she knows and move to a hostile planet to marry the crown-prince, giving her life away for her people. But will her sacrifice pay off? AH/OOC, eventually B/E.**

**WIP ... Diamond in the Rough by MissLiss15. A dirty-talking, Hispanic Edward. Yum. Summary: In high school, Edward was the bad boy Bella pined for, but he never noticed her. While she was away at college, he was behind bars. Their paths cross again when she arrives home and he sees how she's changed. Can she handle the truth about him—that he's after the blood of the man who killed his father—and will she stay by his side with danger around every corner?**

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	15. Chapter 14

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. I'm a chronic fiddler, so all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 14 **

"I should have known better than to ignore his requests." I wring my hands as we leave the throne room, passing curious faces along the way. Their expressions are disapproving, and my heart sinks with the knowledge my first appearance at court did not go well.

"And he should have had more patience with you. Until now, you were not ready to face the court." Alice squeezes my arm in reassurance as she, Rosalie, and I walk through the halls toward her chambers.

I shake my head. "He _was_ patient, Alice. I mistakenly thought your mother's invitation to appear when I was ready came from him as well. When he sent his messenger just days after I arrived, I—" Again, I shake my head. "I should have made my appearance sooner." I look at her from the corner of my eye, hesitant to give voice to my next thought.

"What is it?"

"Is he always so ..."

"Cold?" Alice whispers, answering my unfinished question. I nod my head, and Alice nods hers in return. "He is, most especially when things have not gone according to plan and there is somewhere to lay blame for it. And your journey home certainly did not go according to plan."

"But no one is to—" I turn to Rosalie. It suddenly occurs to me her husband was not present at court. "Does he blame _Emmett_ for what happened? Surely he understands there was nothing anyone could do."

A sad smile accompanies the shake of Rosalie's head. "That is not the way our king feels. There is _always_ someone to blame."

My steps falter and slow, and the two other women halt their own. "Is he being punished? Why was he not there today?" I ask in a whisper.

The two exchange a look, and uneasiness creeps up my spine.

"He was reassigned to guard the stables," Rosalie says softly.

"Why would ..." And then it dawns on me. The king intends to punish and humiliate Emmett for his perceived failure.

"My father is nothing if not a stubborn mule sometimes," Alice whispers. "And my brother always managed to talk sense into him before things got out of hand." Her arm wraps around my waist as we resume or walk through the halls. "But he will return soon, and all this nonsense will be sorted. You will see."

"I need to see him," I say, my footsteps once again stopping suddenly.

"Who? Emmett?" Rosalie asks, and I nod. "I am not sure it is a good idea, My Lady."

I look her directly in the eyes. "Emmett has obviously spoken with his uncle, so he must know at least something about the king's plans to find Edward. And with winter soon upon us, there is no time to waste."

The outer courtyard is a much busier place than it was the day I arrived in Galon. People mill around, all intent on fulfilling their duties, focused on their tasks. Some manage to call out a greeting as I pass, but most do not pay me any mind. I'm being accompanied by two members of the castle's guard and Angela, trailing just paces behind me.

When I step into the stables, the person I seek is sullenly looking on while the stable boys fill the horses' feed bins.

"I see they are putting your skills as a warrior to good use."

Emmett's eyes snaps to mine, surprise written all over his face. "Your Highness," he says, standing straighter and nodding once as the stable boys look on.

"Tell me, Sir McCarty, do you often have need for your sword while you so dutifully watch over the horses?"

The look he gives me is one of amused irritation, and it makes me smile. "No, My Lady, I cannot say that I do."

I step toward the stall where Moondancer is being kept. "Is she being treated well?" I ask as I reach out to stroke her warm muzzle.

"That she is, My Lady. I've seen to it myself." He grins, one of his dimples now on display.

"That is good to know." I glance at those standing nearby before turning my focus back to Emmett, lowering my voice. "If you have a moment, I would very much like to speak with you."

With the guards and Angela walking at a respectful distance behind us, Emmett leads me out of the stables and toward the gardens beside the church.

The late afternoon sun is warm, and I bask in it. It does not take long for my thoughts to drift to the conditions in which Edward is being kept. Can he see the sun? Is he cold? Is he hungry? Is he injured? Is he even alive? I push away my final thought and clear my throat. "Shall I assume you have spoken with the king?"

Emmett nods as he leads me to a bench, helping me sit before he takes his place beside me. "I have, My Lady."

He says nothing more, and my frustration with his hesitance mounts. "Please dispense with the formality, Emmett, and tell me what you know! I have heard absolutely nothing about any plans to send an army to retrieve Edward, and after the king's display at court this morning, I fear I would be the last person in Masenthorne Castle to learn of his plans." I grasp his arm. "Please. You must tell me what you know. Something. Anything! Can you tell me what was said when you met with the king? What did you tell him? There is still so much about that night I do not know."

"Are you sure you wish to hear it?"

"Emmett, I _saw_ it. How much worse can it be to hear about what led to it?"

"You are sure?"

I nod. "I need to know why he abandoned me that night, why he was not there when I woke," I say ever so softly.

"No, do not think that, Isabella. He did not abandon you. In fact, the very first thing he did was assign people to watch over you."

"Tell me."

He takes a deep breath before blowing it out. "Edward was already standing outside of his tent, armed and ready to fight when I came out of mine. He was barking at the men, ordering Michael and several others to stand guard over you, but I already had my sword in hand and was ready to charge into battle." He shakes his head at the memory. "A small group attacked the eastern edge of the camp, and I led a small band of us against them." His voice cracks as he continues. "I lost half of the men fighting alongside me in a matter of minutes. We were so unprepared. We managed to bring down the few that remained, but we had suffered a great loss. At that point, everywhere I looked, I saw the same thing; we were being slaughtered. Edward was doing his best to hold them back, but it was a losing battle from the start. I got close enough to hear him order me to find you and get you to safety." He looks directly into my eyes. "If he could have gone for you himself, he would have. But for him to leave his position at that point meant the enemy would have taken the upper hand. They would have overpowered us completely and there would have been no one to defend you. He wouldn't let that happen."

"And that is why it was you to find me and not him," I say simply, quietly.

"Even in the heat of battle, his thoughts were of protecting you. That is why he was on the front line against them; he knew he had to keep them away from the center of camp. He needed to ensure your safety."

"Thank you," I say softly. "I did not know how much I needed to hear that." I turn to meet his gaze. "Do we know yet who attacked us?"

"No. When our men returned to the camp to search for survivors and salvage what they could, they also searched the fallen men. They carried no banners, their weapons and shields bore no crests, and not one of them wore any distinguishing marks of any army in the realm. None of them carried so much as a coin in their pocket to tell us from where they came. They appeared out of nowhere and left no evidence of their allegiance. But I'm hopeful that by now, Jasper has uncovered their secret and will get word to us soon."

"What is next? Is the king organizing his men to find Edward when word finally comes?"

He shakes his head. "I do not know. I wish I did. I haven't been to a King's council meeting since shortly after we arrived. I'm not exactly the first person he would tell of his plans."

"But why? You were there! You saw what happened, and I would think you would have vital information the king would want to hear."

"I told him everything I knew. I tried to offer my suggestions, a strategy to rescue my cousin, but I was summarily dismissed and reassigned to look after the animals," he says, his jaw tightening.

"I do not understand. You were among the most trusted of Edward's men. Why would his father dismiss you? Why wouldn't he want to hear your opinion?"

"Surely you grasp just how angry Carlisle is. His heir is missing, nearly a hundred of his soldiers are dead, and he's looking for someone to blame. Since I returned and his son did not, he is holding me responsible. I am only glad I was sent to the stables and not beheaded."

My eyes widen. "But ... you are the queen's blood. Family. Why would you think he would have you killed? How is that fair?" I whisper.

He chuckles. "Well, perhaps not beheaded. But, Isabella, my uncle is _angry_. He's in the middle of a crisis; one the likes of which this kingdom has never seen. No one knows how he is going to react. He is usually a thoughtful king, taking his time to make decisions, but he is acting on his anger and frustration at not being able to act at all. With no word back from Jasper, I cannot see how he can plan any kind of rescue. He is absolutely impotent, and it is uncharted territory for him. For a man who leads with his head and not his heart, I'm not at all surprised by his reaction. His anger could be clouding his judgement. He is not used to his emotions leading his decisions, and right now, I believe his anger is making him unsure."

"I had not considered that," I whisper. "Given what kind of man I know Edward to be, patient and understanding, I always assumed he learned that from his father, but apparently that is not so."

"Yes, Edward is patient and understanding ... with you. But in his dealings with his father, with his men, in a lot of ways he is like our king." He shakes his head. "Our king sees failure as a weakness, and anyone who fails in his duties needs to be punished."

I reflect for a moment, really thinking over what Emmett has said. All along I had expected the king to rally his army to go and find his son. But if what Emmett says is true, maybe Carlisle will wait, shrewdly biding his time and weighing the cost of running off to the south with no known destination. The fast approaching winter would only add to the complications. If failure is not an acceptable outcome for our king, he may very well wait until it is clear his men will be successful.

I do not know if I can sit patiently by and wait.

I turn to face Emmett fully, my hand gripping his forearm. "Please, if there is _anything_ you might know about what he is planning, I _need_ to know."

He grasps my hand as it rests on his arm. "I doubt I will hear much while I guard the horses, but if I do, you will be the first to know. My hope is Jasper's messenger will return soon and the king will realize he needs me to do more than watch over the boys shoveling out the stalls."

I crack a smile. "Thank you, Emmett. I appreciate your willingness to help me."

He rises to his feet, offering me his hand. "You have to know if he sends anyone, I will be the first to volunteer to go."

"I would not expect anything less from you, Sir McCarty."

* * *

The temple is empty aside from Elder Afton, and his face lights in welcome as I step inside.

"Greetings, Your Highness. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence in my humble sanctuary?"

I smile at his warm welcome. This man, the one who performed our wedding ceremony and returned with the first group of men to leave Adwen for Galon, has always been approachable, ever patient with me whenever I have questions about the Gods of my new homeland. And right now, I feel as though I could use some of his comforting guidance.

"I was visiting a friend nearby and realized I had yet to visit the temple. My time in prayer has been spent in the castle's chantry, as you well know."

"That I do, Your Highness," he replies with a nod. "And that is where I spend most of my time as well, humbly serving the needs of the Cullens. So, it is quite serendipitous that we should meet here."

I nod. "It would seem so. Perhaps the Gods knew I needed a hearing ear."

He waits patiently as I look around the room, taking in the details. The altar is covered in various idols, bits of nature, and burning incense, and colorful panes of glass fill the windows. They all add to the beauty of this house of worship. It almost makes me long for Adwen, where things were simple. We had one God and a king who may not have led us well, but I never truly feared him.

And while I am still unsure about my place here, there is one thing I am quite sure of: King Carlisle is not happy with me. Perhaps he does not like me. I also have to wonder if he sees me as a burden, a daughter he has to provide for despite the fact that his son has not returned. Am I a constant reminder of his army's failure to bring his son home safely? Does he not believe I am distraught about Edward's absence?

These thoughts plague me, but dwelling on them will serve no purpose. Instead, I try to focus on why I walked into the church in the first place.

To pray for my husband's safe return, despite what our king plans to do to bring him home.

"What is it that troubles you, child?"

I smile ruefully. "Is it that obvious?"

One corner of his mouth turns up in a half grin. "Only to someone who knows what to look for." He reaches for my hand. "I am here to listen. Even if it were not my duty, I would be happy to help in any way I can. Please"—he gestures toward one of the empty benches—"have a seat and ask me anything you wish to know."

"Where to begin?" I muse aloud.

"I always feel it is best to start at the beginning."

We exchange small smiles. "Of course." I think over all I've struggled with in recent days—my seclusion after I arrived, being mocked before the court by our king and hearing the harsh truth about him from Emmett, and feeling powerless to do anything to help find Edward—I realize the only thing I have left in my power is to pray fervently for my husband to come home. But after all these weeks in Galon, I feel as though I have lost some of the very strength and determination Edward said drew him to me in the first place.

"I am not feeling much like myself these days."

"How so?"

I raise my eyes from my clasped hands as they lie in my lap. "The night I first met His Highness, he overheard me make a rather sharp-tongued comment to my sister." I smile at the memory. "He told me my wit was one of the things that intrigued him." My gaze goes back to my now fidgeting fingers. "He also said I had a strength he admired, but right now, I do not feel very witty or strong." I look Elder Afton directly in the eyes. "Without him here, I feel less like myself every day." I lower my voice to a whisper. "I need to find my strength ... especially if he does not return."

Elder Afton is quiet, thoughtful, as he ponders my words. "Do you know much about the Masenthorne trees that grow nearby, Your Highness?"

"Not much, I would say. They do not grow in Adwen."

He nods. "Many generations ago, this land was a vast forest, even where this very castle now stands. It would take nearly an entire moon cycle to cross it before reaching open space. Trees as far as the eye could see in any direction. But those who traveled this land knew of its richness, the fertile soil that lay below their feet. For how could the forest that covered the land grow to that size if the earth was barren? Men fought for their own small corners of the land, small squabbles that divided tribes and families, until the Cullen family won a particular battle very near here, in a patch of Masenthorne trees. That victory would change the course of history."

"Masenthorne," I whisper. "The castle is named for the trees."

He smiles. "That it is, My Lady. The trees were cut down to build their house, and they established a name for themselves. Their family was large, generations of sons fought beside each other for lands, and soon, they were the most feared family in all the kingdoms. Their territory expanded, and more and more chose to join them, falling under their protection. And with each village that was built from the trees, their power grew.

"The Cullen family was grateful to the earth, to the sun and moon, even to the stars that shone at night. The massive trees that grew all around them, the same ones that helped them build their kingdom, had roots so strong, they would burst from the ground, showing the men the twisted and connected fingers. They knew their strength came from the things around them, and the many Gods they worshiped were just like the roots of the trees, vast and all connected.

"The roots and the tree are equally important, My Lady. Just as the many Gods support life, like those roots, so does the God you worshiped in Adwen give power, like the powerful tree that helped build this kingdom. They are not so different, and you can find strength and power in them. They all hear your prayers, and most especially if your heart is in the right place, which I can wholeheartedly say it is, My Lady. So, my advice to you is to keep praying, put your faith in them to bring our prince home." He reaches out and takes my hand. "You have an entire kingdom praying for his safe return. Find strength there, in your people, as well."

Leaving the chantry, I feel something I have not felt since we arrived at Masenthorne Castle: determination.

* * *

Days pass, and still no word comes from Jasper. And as each day goes by, I grow more and more morose, but still I pray. I am so focused on my newfound purpose, I am short-tempered with Angela when she tries to convince me to spend more time with Alice and Rosalie, or to leave my chambers at all.

To pacify her, I visit the market one especially chilly afternoon, my friend trailing right beside me. We walk in silence through the gates, the guards not giving us more than a _"Good morning, Your Highness"_ as we pass.

As we walk past merchant after merchant, I grow more anxious with every step. Their brightly colored displays do nothing to excite or entice me. The market is crowded and loud as people attempt to sell their wares, and all I can think about is returning to my chambers or going to the chantry to pray.

"I wish to return to my chambers," I say loud enough for only Angela to hear.

Her disappointment is obvious, but she nods and relents, allowing me to lead us back through the gates and toward my rooms.

After my forced excursion, I begin to avoid everyone's attempts to draw me from my new routine. With a clear intent, I visit the chantry daily, only returning to my chambers to eat and to sleep. While I pray, Elder Afton watches over me as I beg the Gods for Edward's safe return.

What I do not expect to find when I walk through the door late one night is the king, deep in a prayer of his own.

My abrupt stop in the doorway disturbs a pebble, causing it to skitter across the stone floor. Before I can decide if I should stay, the sound gains the attention of the one man I do not wish to be alone with.

"My apologies, Your Majesty," I say with a curtsy.

"No need. I was almost finished. Besides, the chantry is for all." He stands and turns fully toward me. He is quiet for a moment, and I begin to feel anxious under his stare. "I must say, though, it is good to know you are taking the time to pray. Elder Afton tells me you spend much of your day here."

"I do, My Lord."

He steps closer, now just an arm's length away. "And what do you pray for?"

I answer with no hesitation. "The safe return of my husband, My Lord."

He nods and lowers his head, his hands grasped behind his back. "It was my greatest wish for my son to be a strong leader, to be able to guide our people with strength and wisdom." He raises his eyes to mine. "But I can see how he was easily distracted."

I swallow down the sudden lump in my throat. "Distracted, Your Majesty?" I croak.

"I have sent my son into countless battles, and he has always kept his focus, always been victorious, but this time ..." He shakes his head. "I sent him to Adwen to gain access to those damn ports, by any means necessary. And against _my_ better judgement, I allowed him to use _his_ judgement concerning taking one of Charles' daughters." He studies me carefully, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to shrink back under his scrutiny. "There is no denying your beauty, so I understand how he could have been so enamored with you. I only pray it did not cost him his life."

He turns his head to look upon the altar. "I have prayed every day for the Gods to send me a sign that he is alive, that there is hope he will return, but so far, there has been nothing." He turns back to me and his eyes drop to my waist. "I had hoped by now we might know the next heir to the throne had taken root in your belly."

My eyes begin to sting, and my vision clouds as his rise to meet them. "But perhaps you are as barren as the useless land from which you hail."

I blink, and twin, traitorous tears spill onto my cheeks.

The king steps past me, close enough for his garment to brush against the sleeve of my dress. He stops, his head tilted down and back toward me. "I have heard the men who returned speak of the raven who visited your caravan. Did you know one had not visited anyone in our family for generations? Perhaps it is you who brings bad omens, Isabella. Maybe it was not worth the effort after all, to go to such lengths to gain a port. I thought my son was quite clever, suggesting an alliance, bargaining to take Adwen into the realm of Galon once you bore a son to mine." He pauses, and I feel as though I cannot breathe. "But I fear it was all for nothing. Maybe it is time to think about returning you to Adwen. You will serve me no purpose here without your husband."

It is not until his footsteps echo in the hall, growing quieter as he walks away, that I finally take a breath. I resist the urge to fall to my knees and cry. No, instead, I allow the full weight of his words to settle upon me. With my husband still missing, feared dead, and no sign of an heir growing within me, he intends to send me back to my homeland. If I am to have any hope of remaining here, waiting for my husband's return, I now know what I must do.

* * *

**A/N: Ouch. Well, if you didn't like Carlisle before, I don't see that changing with this chapter. Ideas on what Isabella's planning? I'd love to hear your thoughts. And sadly, still no Edward this chapter. I know many of you are anxious to get him back. Hang in there! **

**And now time for some recs! This week, both the completed and WIP recs are by the lovely Shouldbecleaning. **

**Dogfight is a great story and a quick read at just about 13k words. The summary doesn't offer too many clues, but it's worth checking out. Summary: Handsome is as handsome does. **

**Perfect Match is a WIP I'm still not brave enough to return to. Lol. I'm waiting it out until I know I won't want to strangle this Edward. ;) Summary: For him, she's a perfect match. Sometimes it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.**

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	16. Chapter 15

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. I'm a chronic fiddler, so all mistakes are mine.**

****PLEASE SEE RIDICULOUSLY LONG A/N AT THE BOTTOM FOR THE POSTING SCHEDULE FOR THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS!****

* * *

**Chapter 15**

I grasp the handle and pull, cracking the door open just enough to meet the eyes of the guard posted outside my chambers.

"Is there something you need, Your Highness?"

I clear my throat and try to calm my nerves. "It seems to be a bit chillier than anticipated, and I appear to be running low on firewood. Could you perhaps see to bringing me more?"

Indecision shines in his eyes, knowing full well he is not supposed to leave his post. "My Lady, I am not supposed to—"

"The sun has not even risen. I do not plan to leave my chambers for quite a while. I assure you I will be more than safe long enough for you to seek out a bundle of logs." I force a pleasant smile and hope for the best.

He hesitates but finally relents. "Of course, My Lady. I should not be long."

"Take your time," I call after his retreating form.

Once he disappears from sight, I slip out through my door. My footsteps are light as I navigate the still darkened corridors, my meager collection of supplies held tightly to my chest so as not to make a sound. The many layers I wear, topped with Edward's cloak, are more than a little warm, and sweat begins to bead on my skin. I am able to evade the guards, some of them sleeping, many others distracted by conversations meant to keep them alert at this hour.

I conceal myself in hidden recesses along my path, careful not to alert anyone to my presence. More than once I take a wrong turn, but eventually, I find my way outside. The pre-dawn sky is just beginning to light as the sun rises. I look up and see threatening clouds but pay little mind to them as I head toward my destination.

The courtyard is beginning to fill with workers at this hour, so I keep my hood up over my head and keep my eyes to the ground as I trek toward the stables. Once inside, I'm greeted by the soft nickers and sighs of the beasts who reside within. The only other sound is the deep snore of the night guard. He is seated at the other end of the building, smaller in stature, wiry and thin, and I deduce it is _not_ Emmett. The empty, tipped-over tankard at his feet tell me he spent his night more than a little into his cups, which will serve me well. If it were my husband's cousin, I know he would put a stop to what I have planned.

Moondancer whinnies as I approach her stall. I turn at the sound of an especially loud snore, worried she's woken the guard. But all is well as he merely shifts his position, crossing his arms over his chest and resting his head against the wall behind him.

"Shh," I whisper as I stroke her muzzle, and she calms at my touch. "That's a good girl. Will you help me? Hmm? Will you help me find him?"

Once she has stopped shifting from foot to foot, I know it is safe to open the gate to her stall. I enter and lead her out, toward the blankets and saddles at the far end of the stable, far away from the snoring guard.

My inexperience with saddling a horse is obvious, and I am glad I do not have an audience. But I eventually manage to secure the saddle and tie my supplies to it. Since I have always had assistance in mounting a horse, it takes several tries before I am successful. I take the reins in my hands and guide Moondancer out of the stable toward the castle's outer gate.

At this hour, people are coming or going through the gates, either leaving from or arriving for their duties at the castle. I keep my head down and walk behind a merchant pulling a wagon, likely leaving after delivering a load of supplies.

None of the guards notice me or recognize my horse as I pass, and a rush of relief comes over me once I make it past the second gate. I kick Moondancer into a trot once we reach the road and head in the direction of the outlying villagers' homes. The air is more frigid than I expected, and I pull my cloak tighter around myself.

At this hour, most of the villagers who work the fields and tend to their animals are still tucked away in their homes. With the harvest already brought in, the need to work the land is not as urgent, and they are taking a well-deserved break. It is my good fortune no one is out to watch me head south, slipping away into the forest.

* * *

The sun tries to shine through the clouds, giving what little warmth it can, but it is still incredibly cold. My gloved hands grip the reins, and my cloak and many layers are keeping me warm, but I now have a different concern; I had not anticipated how difficult this would be on my own. Having only a vague idea of where I am going will also be a problem. Beyond knowing I need to head south, I am relying on landmarks and the well-traveled road to take me at least as far as our destroyed camp. My hope is that I will find Jasper or one of his men along the way.

I have been riding for hours, using the scant sunlight struggling to break through the thickening grey overhead to guide me. With only my horse to speak to, I fear by the time I reach my undetermined destination I will have gone mad.

I begin to question the wisdom of my plan.

"Tell me this is still a good idea, girl," I foolishly say to my horse. Her snort of disapproval tells me all I need to know. She must also think this is madness.

Still, I press on, trusting each step we take gets me closer to my husband. I try not to think of just how long it will take me to reach him or find any clues to where he is being held. But I could not sit and idly wait another moment for someone else to act. Each day that passes is another day he could be harmed ... or worse.

I am sure by now at least Angela realizes I am gone, so I quicken my pace. It likely wouldn't take long for one of the king's men to find me, if he cared enough to send someone after me, that is.

A fork in the road gives me pause. At first glance, they both appear to go south, but I am unsure which one I should take. I close my eyes and silently plead with the Gods to help me choose the one that will lead me to Edward. When I open them, a single beam of sunlight shines through the boughs of the trees, illuminating the path on the right. I take it as a sign and pull Moondancer's reins, quickly saying a prayer of thanks to the Gods for their guidance.

It is not long after that snow begins to fall. It quickly turns from sparse flakes to a curtain of white. The wet and cold seep into my cloak and through the many layers I wear, chilling me to the bone, and I realize what a horrible mistake I've made. Between the snow and the tears filling my eyes, the path disappears from before me.

I raise my face to the sky, the snow forcing me to keep my eyes closed. "Is this a sign?" I yell toward the grey clouds overhead. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

Defeat settles in me, and all the bravado and determination I had mere hours ago is gone.

"I am sorry, girl." I bury my face in Moondancer's mane, my arms around her neck as remorse fills me. "What should we do? Do we go back?"

Her reply is a deep sigh. Wiping my eyes and heaving a sigh of my own, I pull on her reins, turning us around, but when I do, I grasp how difficult it will be to find our way back. The snow has covered the path behind us, concealing our way back to Masenthorne Castle.

Panic swells in my belly as fear creeps up my spine. Without knowing our way back, being lost to the storm is a very real possibility. Knowing I am running out of time, the snow only getting deeper, I kick Moondancer first into a trot and then a gallop, my head lowered to block the rush of snow against my face.

I raise my eyes several times, hoping we are still going the right way, but nothing we pass looks familiar. Disoriented and shivering, I give up trying to guide my horse and depend on her instincts to lead us. I can only pray we are on the correct path home.

With each stride of Moondancer's legs, I grow colder and colder, and my body stiffens, leaving me unable to hold tightly to the reins. It is almost an out of body experience when I feel myself slip from the saddle. My limbs are too sluggish to react and stop my fall, and I land in an already formed drift with a muted thump.

My lids flutter open against the falling snow, and I watch my horse gallop a short distance before coming to a stop, probably sensing she's lost her passenger. She trots back to my side and hovers protectively over me. I reach out, running my hand over her soft nose when she bends down to check on me.

"It's all right, girl. I just need a moment," I mumble, suddenly sleepy.

She snorts in reply but does not move away. Peaceful quiet surrounds me as the flakes fall, the immediate stillness causing my eyes to close of their own volition. A voice, loud and strong, breaks through the silence and calls out my name. I fight against the urge to let sleep claim me, but it is difficult. And when a dark, hulking figure comes into view, I believe myself to already be dreaming.

"Oh, thank the Gods," the figure murmurs as he comes close, dismounting his own horse and lifting me from the snow-covered ground. "What were you thinking?" he asks, wasting no time as he lifts us both into his saddle. The voice is familiar, comforting.

"Emmett?" I ask, unsure if I can trust my own ears.

"What were you thinking, Isabella?" I know he is angry, but I cannot bring myself to answer him.

"I'm so cold," I whisper, closing my eyes and allowing sleep to finally claim me.

* * *

Whispers filter through my subconscious as I drift from sleep to brief moments of wakefulness.

"How long has it been since she last stirred?"

"A few hours perhaps."

"Did she say anything this time?"

"Just more mumbling about not wanting to go back to Adwen."

Sleep is a heavy blanket I cannot seem to shake, and no good reason to fight it comes to mind. In brief moments of alertness, I hear people file in and out of my chambers. I go from feeling bone-deep, icy chills that send me into fits of shivering to blazing heat that leaves me restless and damp with sweat. My bedchamber fills with light, and it turns dark just as often. I am jostled and made to drink water and broth, but my stomach revolts nearly every time, and I bring up everything I manage to swallow.

Those around me continue to whisper, and by the tone of their hushed words, I know they are unhappy with me. _I_ am unhappy with myself. As my consciousness fully returns, I realize what I have done, and the weight of my actions begins to settle upon me.

My foolish decision to run off at first light could have gotten me killed.

"You should try and eat something, My Lady." Angela's soft but pointed words come from the corner of the room, and I merely groan in response. "You need to regain some of your strength. You have duties to attend to, and I cannot keep you hidden away in your chambers much longer."

"No," I rasp as I close my eyes tightly, ignoring the heavy sigh from my friend. Disheartened, I drift back to the safety of sleep.

The next time light fills my bedchamber, my eyes blink open of their own accord. The curtains around my bed have all been pulled open, and the shutters are wide, allowing the warm afternoon sunlight through the window.

At first, I do not move; keeping my eyes open is a feat in itself. I take inventory of my body. I am listless, my muscles weak, and it is evident the aches and soreness are from lying abed so long.

"You gave us all a scare, Your Highness." My gaze lands on Rosalie as she sits in a chair near my bed. "But I'm not sure if you fully comprehend how serious your stunt was."

"I know," I whisper.

"Do you? Do you realize my husband had to chase after you in a snowstorm with no idea where you'd gone? Have you any idea how dangerous that was? How much danger you put _him_ in? Not to mention the guards who let you pass. I'm not sure I've ever seen Emmett in such a rage."

"I am sorry."

"I am sure you are." Moments of silence pass, but her eyes never leave mine. "The king and queen have been asking after you, wondering why you've not been back to court the last four days."

"Four days?" My eyes widen in surprise. "I've been asleep for four days?"

"Nearly. The first was the day you disappeared. You fought a fever from being exposed to the cold for the next two, and you've only now truly awoken. We've been able to keep the questions at bay by telling them you've been ill, which, with the fever, is the truth. They just do not know _why_ you were fighting a fever. From what we can tell, they've not heard about what you did. I am not sure how Carlisle would react to hearing you'd run away, especially in his current state of mind."

I close my eyes and swallow down the guilt of my actions. "I am sorry, Rosalie, for putting your husband in danger. And I am sorry for putting you in the position I have, needing to lie to the king and queen." I shake my head. "It will not happen again."

"Why did you do it at all?"

I cannot meet her steely gaze any longer and curl into a ball, wrapping my arms around myself. "I needed to _do_ something, Rosalie. I could not just sit by and wait any longer. I've grown tired of waiting on the king. Edward is out there somewhere, and his father is in no rush to send his men to find him. Each day he is gone is one more day he may be harmed, and I cannot abide that," I say softly.

"Still, you should have waited, Isabella. The king may not have blindly sent off his men into the night, but he will act when it is time. You must be patient."

"I did not feel like I had the luxury of time to wait on him," I admit.

"And why is that?"

I lift my eyes to hers. "He is unhappy with me," I whisper.

"The king?" she asks, surprised.

I nod.

"And why do you think he is unhappy with you?"

I shake my head, unwilling to tell her the king plans to send me away if his son does not return.

When I say nothing more, Rosalie quickly grows impatient. "Well, I am glad to see you are well, Your Highness," she says as she stands, her formal address making me uncomfortable; I know she is not pleased with me. "I will be sure to inform the queen the next time she inquires that you are well and should soon be back at court." She lowers herself into a curtsy and sees herself out.

I spend the rest of the day staring into the flames in the hearth, sipping on the broth Angela has brought, the guilt continuing to eat away at me. I wish I had never attempted to find Edward on my own. The only things I have successfully done is upset one of my only friends, make myself sick, and possibly further upset the king.

* * *

Even with the guilt hanging over my head, I try not to shrink back under Carlisle's scrutiny when I make my next appearance at court the following week. After hearing about the fever I suffered, the queen relentlessly asks after my health, worried for my well-being. I reassure her I am well, perhaps a little sluggish, but otherwise unaffected. What I do not tell her is the weak stomach I suffered while recovering has not abated. Nearly every morning I wake feeling sick. Angela tells me it will pass, but she has been keeping a closer eye on me. And judging by the curious stares Alice gives me, she seems to have enlisted help.

Once everyone is dismissed, I am walking through the throne room toward the doors when I see Emmett.

"Sir McCarty," I say, surprised. "Has our king allowed you to leave your post in the stables?" I ask lightheartedly, attempting to soften his hardened countenance.

Rosalie steps to his side and loops her arm through his, her expression unreadable, and still, Emmett does not speak.

I clear my throat. "I feel I must apologize to you, sir. I never meant to put you or anyone else in danger."

He stares at me for a moment, his irritation obvious as he stares at me through narrowed eyes. "Is that what you believe I am upset about? Me being in danger?"

"Lady McCarty said—"

"My wife worries far too much about my safety." He shakes his head. "That is not why I am angry, Isabella. I made a promise to my cousin to keep you safe, and you disappearing before the break of dawn made it hard for me to keep it. I do not think you quite understand how important keeping my word is to me, otherwise you would not have done what you did."

"I am so sorry, Emmett." I shake my head. "I never set out to make you break your word."

"Then why did you do it?" he asks, frustration evident in his tone.

I watch as courtiers file out of the throne room, all of them distracted by their own conversations, but I am still concerned one might overhear us. "I had my reasons," I say softly.

"Were they enough to risk your life? You do realize if anything had happened to you, Edward would have, at the very least, maimed me for not protecting you." He shakes his head. "Do not do anything foolish again, or I might be forced to see to it you are locked away in your chambers until he returns. And this time I will make sure the guard you are assigned knows not to play the part of your errand boy."

"I am sorry, Emmett," I repeat. I watch as they walk away, Rosalie's arm through her husband's, and again, the guilt wells inside me.

* * *

I wake in a cold sweat, my hair clinging to my face. My heart thunders in my chest, and tears stream down my cheeks.

Another nightmare.

I close my eyes as I try to catch my breath and calm myself. I know if I do not get control of my body, I will surely expel the contents of my stomach. It is now, unfortunately, a regular occurrence, and it only seems to be worsening.

Even with my newfound and unexpected friendships with Alice and Rosalie, my heart still aches for the one person who is missing from my life, and at night, I dream of him; I dream of finding him, falling into his arms and feeling the safety and care he showed me in our short time together. Some nights, like tonight, my dreams change to nightmares; terrifying visions of Edward walking away from me and toward the burning camp, being tortured, crying out for me. The visions plague my sleep, and I cannot escape them.

I throw back the covers and sit up in my bed, trying to get my bearings. After my failed rescue attempt and subsequent illness, I always wake disoriented and sick, and it takes me a moment to feel steady enough to stand. When my belly calms and I feel like I will not topple over, I slide from the bed. When my wool-stocking-covered feet hit the cool stone floor, I grab my robe and put it on. I step out of my bedchamber, toward the fire in the sitting room, and sit before the hearth. I stretch my hands toward the warmth, trying not to focus on the empty feeling inside me.

Hours may pass, I am unsure, but soon enough, Angela enters my chambers. Her expression is curious, but she does not question me. I do find her checking the chamber pot to see if I have become ill since she was last with me, though.

"How are you feeling, My Lady?" Angela studies me carefully as I sit on the settee before the fire. She always looks at me this way after I've had a difficult night.

"A bit out of sorts, and again I feel a bit unsettled this morning."

Her eyes light up. "I was speaking with one of the kitchen maids, and she suggested a tea that might help to settle your stomach. Would you like me to prepare some?"

I smile up at my friend. "That would be lovely. I am willing to try anything. Thank you."

She nods and bobs a quick curtsy before turning to the kettle hung on the rack beside the fire. With a careful push, she swings it over the flames and turns back to me. "I just need to go to my chambers to retrieve the tea leaves she gave me. I will be back soon." She excuses herself, and I am left alone.

Even though I do not enjoy solitude as I have before, it is a brief reprieve from her speculative gaze.

Angela returns, herbs in hand, and sets about making my tea. The smell that fills the air as the herbs steep is pungent, and my unsettled belly begins to roil once again. When she finally hands me the cup and the liquid is that much closer to my nose, the need to purge my stomach is overwhelming.

I rush back into my bedchamber and drop to my knees, my face hovering over the pot while a knock sounds at my outer door. I pay no mind to it as I heave into the bowl, my face feeling clammy as I do. A damp cloth appears before me when I finally raise my head, and I take it gratefully.

"Thank you, Angela."

She nods but says nothing.

"Who was at the door?" I ask as I get to my feet.

"It is Lady McCarty. She says she was concerned when you missed prayer services first thing this morning."

I nod and look down at myself. Wrapped in my robe, I am presentable enough. "Please let her know I will be with her shortly."

"Yes, My Lady."

She leaves me, and once I've gathered myself enough to welcome my guest, I join them in my sitting room.

Rosalie lowers into a curtsy. "My Lady."

"Lady McCarty, how good it is to see you. I must say I'm surprised to see you here after the last time you visited me." We both take a seat before the fire. "To what do I owe your visit?"

She nods her thanks to Angela as she accepts a cup of tea, then she turns back to me. "I was concerned when you were not at morning prayer services. You've been nothing if not steadfast in attending since you recovered, and I knew something must be amiss for you not to be there."

"I apologize. I believe I might have some lingering sickness." I offer her a small smile. "I am sure it will resolve itself in time."

Rosalie nods as if distracted, but then looks at me, a curious expression on her face. "Remind me, Isabella, how long has it been since you were wed?"

I furrow my brow, trying to recall how long it has been. "A bit longer than two moon cycles. Why do you ask?"

Rosalie and Angela exchange a look, and I quickly grow impatient with the silent conversation they seem to be having.

Angela clears her throat and replies to Rosalie's unvoiced question. "It is possible," she whispers.

"What is possible? Would one of you please share with me why the two of you are looking at each other like that?" I ask, exasperated.

Angela opens her mouth, but it is Rosalie who answers. "My Lady, is it possible your unsettled stomach is not from your illness?"

"But what else could it be from?"

"Isabella, is it possible you are with child?"

In a single moment of clarity, my misaligned world rights itself, and at the mention of the possibility, hope fills my heart.

My hands fall to my still-flat belly, and an overwhelming sense of peace comes over me. "A child," I whisper. "Edward's child.

* * *

**A/N: So, what do you think? Is she pregnant? Are we all pissed at the stunt she pulled? What do you think she was hoping to accomplish? I'd love to hear your thoughts. **

*****IMPORTANT*** Next week is the first of two planned weeks of no updates. :( I know, it sucks, but at least I'm leaving you in a good place and not with a cliffy this week! In a couple days I'm taking off with Mr. Sunshine on the motorcycle for a few days away. I'm leaving all of my electronics at home other than my phone, so I won't be doing any writing or editing for several days. Chapter 16 will post on 10/15! The next planned "week off" is the following week, on 10/22. I'll be in Chicago for the mini meetup the weekend before, visiting with some of my lovely Twi-sisters, my beta included. There will be copious amounts of alcohol involved, I'm sure, so I want to make sure I'm on point when I'm editing that following week's chapter. ;) I will be back to uninterrupted weekly postings with chapter 17 on 10/29. The writing on this one is wrapping up, so we just might get a complete on this around the end of the year or the start of 2020.**

**I had a guest reviewer last week point out Isabella's calling Carlisle "My Lord" in the last chapter wouldn't have been acceptable, that she should be referring to him as "You're Majesty" at all times. I was told to "get a clue." Well … Other than your critique being misspelled and a bit rude in its delivery, yes, GR, you're right ... to an extent. Remember, she did, in fact, address him as Your Majesty when she walked into the chantry. But in the rest of their private conversation, think of the address of My Lord as more informal, but still acknowledging his position over her. Just like she referred to Edward as My Lord, even though the formal address should have been Your Highness. And seeing how Isabella is part of the family, she can get away with the more informal address, especially in a private conversation. And besides, this is an imaginary world in a made up time. (Please see the A/N at the beginning of the prologue.) If I wanted her to address Carlisle as Lord Commander of the First Order, she would.**

**Okay, time for some recs. Both of them this week are by the author Isisivy. And both of them are pretty angsty, IMO. **

**The Sky Is Painted With Red is complete and quite a ride. For those of you who want to see ExB together quick and with no one else, you may want to skip this completed story, but for the rest of you, this is a great vamp fic. Summary: Seven billion people live on Earth. Only a small percentage know of the darkness beneath them. Those people are known as Human Donors. My name is Bella Swan, and I am a human donor. ExB, Vampward**

**Obstacles is a WIP that seems to be winding down. I only read the very start of it, but I know it's going to be a ride worth taking once it's over. I'm a partial angst wimp, so I usually wait for angsty stories to complete before I dive in. Summary: Bella Swan, still grieving over her mother's sudden death, travels back to her hometown of Forks, Washington to deliver the news to her alcoholic father. Along the way she meets Edward Cullen, a recovering addict, and finds comfort in the most unlikely place.**

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	17. Chapter 16

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. I'm a chronic fiddler, so all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 16**

I look to each of them, my eyes wide and a smile upon my lips. "You think I could be with child?"

"It is possible, My Lady," Angela says softly. "I see to the washing of your clothes and to your linens being changed, and you've not bled since we arrived. It seems quite possible."

I turn to Rosalie. "How will I know for certain?"

"There really is no way to know with absolute certainty until you feel the quickening. But if you've not bled since you arrived at Masenthorne, and now you're sick each morning, there is a very good chance you are carrying."

If it is true, I am carrying a piece of my husband within me, a reminder of the care he showed me. "Edward's child." My smile grows wider as I think of what this means. A child would grant me the king's approval and assure me a place here in Galon. "I will not have to leave."

The confusion on Rosalie's face reminds me I should not have shared my thoughts aloud. "What do you mean you will not have to leave?"

I shake my head. "Please forget I said that."

"You are not planning another escape, are you? Isabella, not only was that a horrible idea the first time, now you likely have a child to think of. It is not safe to be out in the elements for that long in winter, not to mention riding horseback. You cannot—"

"No," I interrupt. "I am not speaking of leaving on horseback, Rosalie." I quietly consider if I should share the conversation I had with Carlisle.

I turn back to Rosalie. Seeing her concern and determination to find out the truth, I know I need to tell her. "It is just something the king mentioned the night I left the castle."

Her eyes narrow. "What did he say to you?"

"That it might be time to consider sending me back to Adwen," I say, my voice not much louder than a whisper.

Judging from her shocked expression, I know my words are not what she expected. "Send you back? But ... why?"

I shake my head. "With Edward missing and no heir to speak of, I serve him no purpose. He also thinks I might be a bad omen."

Rosalie swiftly rises to her feet, the chair she had been seated on scraping against the stone floor. "And why is this the first time I am hearing about this?"

"Because I thought it prudent to keep to myself. Besides, what good would it do to tell anyone?"

"What good? Isabella, my husband did everything in his power to make sure you were safely delivered to Galon. He would want to know if our very own king was planning to have you removed."

"Again, I ask, what good would it do? He cannot go against his king. Emmett serves in the king's army. He—"

"No, you forget. He serves under Edward's command. He—"

"And Edward serves his father. Don't you see, it would have made no difference to tell anyone, and would likely have only caused Emmett trouble. If the king wished to return me to my homeland, I would have had no choice but to go. There would have been nothing anyone could do about it."

Silence settles between us, and I know she is angry. I also know she will not be able to keep this to herself.

"Why did you not tell me, My Lady?" Angela's pained whisper from the periphery of the room gains my attention, and I turn to face her. The look on her face tells me she is hurt; I rarely keep anything from her, especially something so serious.

"I am sorry, Angela. I was hurt and confused, and—"

"All the more reason to tell me." She steps closer but eyes Rosalie cautiously as she nears. Her gaze falls back to me. "Why did you not?"

"I am not completely sure myself, but as I have already said"—I look up into her eyes—"what good would it have done? It would have changed nothing."

She reaches out to take my hand. "Perhaps not, but you would have had a shoulder to cry on, someone to listen. And I would like to think I might have been able to convince you not to run off into the forest." A sad smile graces her lips. "Maybe you would not have had to suffer so many days abed with a fever."

Thoroughly admonished for my impetuousness, I offer the only thing I can. "I know. And I am sorry," I say softly.

"You realize I will need to tell my husband." Rosalie's words snap my attention back to her.

I nod once as I meet her eyes. "I assumed you would, though I hope you will not." I smile. "But it will not matter any longer. If I am carrying Edward's child, the king will have no reason to send me away. I have a place here."

Rosalie steps toward me, opening her arms, and I rise to my feet, walking into them for the embrace I so desperately need. "I only hope that is true," she says softly.

* * *

The bleak days of winter grow shorter and colder. Unlike winters in Adwen where we could venture out into the cold for fresh air, Galon's icy landscape keeps everyone indoors, huddled close to the fires and to each other. I continue to wear Edward's cloak like a talisman, guarding me from the cold, even though it is much too long. Angela has only once asked me to exchange it for my own, and my reaction was ... unpleasant. Needless to say, she has not asked again. My nights are especially frigid, and as I burrow under the blankets and furs of what would have been the bed my husband would visit on cold nights, I imagine what this winter could have been like if things were different.

What time I do not spend with Alice, Rosalie, and their children is spent in the chantry, praying for my husband's safety. The sickness begins to subside as the weeks go on, and it is all but gone by the next full moon. Young Jameson and Emily are a new source of joy for me. In their smiles, I can see my own future. My days have more purpose, and I find a new determination to endure the king's continuing scrutiny.

While at court, he watches me. His gaze is penetrating, like he is searching for something. Rosalie says I am glowing, radiating happiness with my secret news, and that Carlisle can see something different about me.

"I do not see why you are insisting on keeping the news to yourself." Rosalie's eyes do not leave the needlepoint she is working on. "It might soften Carlisle's opinion of you." Finally, her eyes raise to mine. "Everyone at court notices his indifference toward you," she says softly.

I look across the room where Emily is playing with a wooden top, and I lower my voice when I turn back to Rosalie. "But what if I am not with child after all? Would it not be better to wait to tell anyone else until I know for certain? It would do me no good to give the king and queen false hope for an heir if my suspicions turn out to be wrong."

She nods. "I suppose you are right." She reaches across the space between us, placing her hand on mine. "But you must realize quite soon your dresses will begin to tighten across your bosom and middle, and you will not be able to hide it. Some at court are much more observant than we give them credit for. I cannot imagine it will take long for some to begin to suspect."

"I still think it best to wait until I feel the quickening," I whisper.

"And you've still not bled?"

I shake my head. "No, but there were times when I lived in Adwen that more than a few moon cycles would pass between my courses. I do not want to give anyone false hope."

"Then you need to do what you think is best."

As Rosalie rests back into her chair, Alice enters the room, tiny Jameson in her arms. "Hello, my friends. I am in need of some adult conversation," she muses, a tired smile upon her face. And with Alice's arrival, so ends any more talk of the child I might be carrying.

"Mama, look!" Emily's excited squeal is loud. Bouncing on the tips of her toes, she points to the red bird perched on a snow-covered tree limb outside Rosalie's sitting room window.

"I see. It is lovely." Rosalie's tone, the one she saves for her daughter, is much softer than the one she uses with everyone else. "The red birds are one of my favorite things about winter. They look so beautiful against the snow. They say the crested red birds never stray far from their mates, so perhaps his mate is nearby." Rosalie's eyes widen in excitement, her daughter returning it just as enthusiastically. "Do you think we might see baby red birds in the spring?"

"Yes, Mama, babies in the spring! And I can pick the pretty flowers," she says with wide-eyed excitement. Alice and I chuckle at her enthusiasm.

"And perhaps you could show Princess Isabella where the best flowers grow."

Emily's bright blue gaze meets mine, and her childish exuberance shines through. "Yes! I can show you!"

"I would like that very much, Emily. What is your favorite flower?"

Nearly an hour passes as the little girl rambles on about her favorite things to do in the spring. From picking flowers to chasing the new puppies of the season, to riding in front of her father in the saddle, Emily is very obviously looking forward to the warmer days in Galon.

Sadly, the time comes for her lessons, and Rosalie does her best to urge her spirited daughter toward the door, but before she can, Emily's eyes widen in excitement as she points. "Look, Mama, another bird!"

We all turn toward the window with smiles on our faces, expecting to see another red bird, but we're met instead with the beady, black eyes of a raven, its call echoing against the windowpane.

* * *

Unease overshadows my days, and I am anxious over the raven's appearance. Calling to mind what Edward told me so many weeks ago, the warning from the Gods of coming dangers leaves me worried for what is to come.

The queen often calls for me to visit, and we have grown close over the many weeks I have been at Masenthorne. I enjoy listening to her share stories of her son and the histories of the Cullen family, as well as the McCartys.

"Yes, Emmett was always a lively child, much like his mother—my sister. He and Edward would find the muddiest fields in which to play." She smiles softly at the memory.

On this especially cold day, each of us sit in an armchair before the fire, holding steaming cups of tea in our hands.

"It sounds as if they were quite the pair."

"Oh, yes. Jasper was always at court since his mother was Carlisle's cousin, but their relationship was not quite the same. They would visit each season from their estate in Thornbridge, so the time he had as a boy at Masenthorne was limited. It was not until he was of age to train with Edward that they grew closer." She looks up from the fire, her happy smile wide. "I believe Alice coming of age around that time had much to do with it."

"I can see how that would motivate his decisions."

"I hear from my daughter that you have spent quite a bit of time with her, as well as my nephew's wife. Alice may only be visiting while Jasper is away, but she lived here her entire life before she was wed. Rosalie came to us when she wed Emmett, so she has only been at Masenthorne for a short while, but they both have a wealth of knowledge of both the castle and matters of ... family."

I raise my head with a small smile on my face. "I have. Their friendship has been a saving grace on my darkest days."

"Yes, Alice tells me the three of you have grown rather close." She reaches for my free hand and squeezes it gently. "It is good to see."

"It has been such a joy to get to know them, and their children too." The words I so wish to share with her threaten to roll off my tongue, but I swallow them, fearful my news would be premature. "I spend just as much of my day in prayer as I do in the company of my new sister and cousin, though. Elder Afton has been rather welcoming to me as well."

She releases my hand and reclines back into her chair. "Yes, I have heard how much time you spend in the chantry. I am sure the Gods are listening to such fervent devotion. It is only a matter of time before our prayers are answered, I am sure of it."

"I have faith they will be," I say softly.

She sips from her cup and places it back on the table beside her. "You certainly are looking better, Isabella."

My cheeks warm at the compliment, and I smile, hoping there is more to my new appearance than merely being over the illness I suffered. "Thank you, Mother."

"Truly, you look so much ... healthier than you have in recent weeks." Her head tilts as she studies me. "Your cheeks are a bit full and rosy, and your eyes are brighter. It is almost as if you are glowing."

I duck my head, my eyes falling to the cup of tea in my grasp.

"Is there anything you wish to tell me, Isabella?" she asks softly.

"No, Mother." I raise my head with a small smile on my face. "Not yet," I whisper.

If I thought Esme was beautiful before, nothing compares to her beauty now. With her wide smile and eyes shining with unshed tears, she is a vision, the picture of absolute joy. "That is very good to hear, daughter."

* * *

My absolute least favorite activity since coming to Masenthorne Castle has been attending the king's court. With the way I was presented several weeks ago, I am still looked at by some of the courtiers with disdain. I do my best to ignore it and having friends by my side make it easier. The difficulties I had arranging the bodice of my tightening gown just this morning have made me feel as though everyone's attention is focused upon me, though.

While the king may still look upon me with a critical eye, I do my best to appear unaffected. For now, he seems content to wait a while longer to dismiss me, and if he were to try, I can always inform him of the child I believe I am carrying.

Hours are spent listening to the people come before their king to ask for help or to settle one dispute or another. Queen Esme dutifully sits beside her husband while I sit in my new place beside her, representing my husband. The information I truly want to hear—news from Jasper—has yet to come.

The man before us, whose clothes are unsuitable for the winter weather raging outside, is kneeling on the cold, stone floor. "My Lord, our village has lost several heads of cattle and dozens of our sheep have gone missing. We fear it may be interlopers, My Lord."

"Has anyone seen any remains? Could it not have been another animal? I would hate to think you would travel all the way here from Braewood just to inform me a wolf is hunting your herd." King Carlisle's voice is even, unemotional.

The man shakes his head. "No, My Lord, it was no animal. Some of the children stumbled across a carcass and the remains of a burned-out fire. Rumors are spreading, My Lord, about what happened to the prince and what it might mean for Galon."

"Rumors?" he asks forcefully. "Why are the villagers spreading rumors about something they have no knowledge of?"

The man visibly pales but swallows down his fear to speak. "People are fearful that we might be invaded by whomever took him, My Lord. We thought it best to come to Masenthorne and tell you."

King Carlisle pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes deeply to calm himself. "When did the first animal go missing?" he murmurs.

"Near on a fortnite ago, My Lord."

The king looks thoughtful as he ushers forward one of his men. "Please see to it this man is fed and compensated for his losses before he returns home."

"Thank you, My Lord." The man bows before his king, receiving a mere nod in return, and then is led out of the room, likely to one of the taverns just beyond the gates of the keep.

The king turns to his herald to speak, but before he can, a man I instantly recognize as one of Edward's hurries through the doors.

"Your Majesty, I bring news."

I sit straight in my chair, giving a haggard and worn Sir Michael Newton my undivided attention. I take in his appearance. Dirty and disheveled, he has obviously traveled a long way. His face is bright red, undoubtedly chapped by the biting winds raging outside, but his expression is one of relief and earnestness.

Meanwhile, Carlisle ushers him forward with a wave of his hand. "What news do you bring?"

"News of the prince, Your Majesty. He has been found."

Gasps echo throughout the room, and my eyes widen before seeking out Emmett. When I meet his gaze, he nods and swiftly moves into action, walking out through the door in search of answers.

"Well, speak, man! Where is my son?" The king, much like his wife and myself, is perched on the edge of his seat, his hands gripping the arms of the throne.

"He is being held within the walls of Broadcove Castle."

A strangled gasp escapes me at the news of my homeland's involvement.

"I left our men camped just outside the borders of Adwen, My Lord," the soldier continues.

"Is he alive?" I ask, my voice raspy and my heart pounding.

Michael's surprised eyes turn to me, and a small smile graces his lips. "He was alive when I left to travel home, My Lady."

* * *

With a trembling hand, I knock on the door. Voices filter through the thick wood, but no one answers my call. Again, I knock, more forcefully this time. When my second attempt is ignored, I raise my hand for a third time, but before my knuckles can make contact, the door swings open, and I am met with the frustrated eyes of Emmett.

"Now may not be the best time, Your Highness," he whispers. His expression is regretful, but I will not yield.

"I realize that, _sir_, but you must understand my impatience." I stand straight and look him in the eye. "I need to know what news there is of my husband. You have been sequestered in the king's chambers, and no one has come to tell me what is happening." I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. "I need to know if there is a plan to bring him home." My voice lowers to a whisper. "Please."

He stares at me for a moment, but I see the instant he relents; his shoulders slump, and he sighs, standing aside and opening the door wide enough for me to pass.

Before I can thank him, the voices in the room grow louder as I step farther inside. Men are huddled around a table, maps and wooden figures spread out before them. The king stands with his hands behind his back, a fierce look of concentration on his face. As Emmett steps past me, Carlisle looks up and finally notices me.

"Your Majesty," I say softly with a curtsey.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, cold and direct.

"I was hoping I could get some information on the plan to return my husband."

Carlisle's eyes flit to the soldier who delivered the report and then back to me. "You will be informed of the necessary facts once I have spoken further with my men." He turns his attention back to the map, seemingly dismissing me.

I stand, not yet willing to be sent away, and after a moment of silence the king turns back to me. "As I said, Isabella, you will be informed of what you need to know."

Still, I do not move, and he quickly grows impatient with me. "What is it, girl? Do you not see I have more important things to deal with than the needs of a whimpering woman?"

I clear my throat, this time unwilling to back down from the misplaced ire the king has toward me. "I only wish to ask a few questions, then I will be happy to leave you to more urgent matters." I tremble as I speak, knowing challenging the king before his advisors is not wise.

His narrow eyes meet mine but then quickly turn to the returning soldier, nodding his acquiescence. "Very well. Tell her what she wishes to know so we can get back to more important things."

The soldier clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable, and meets my pleading gaze. "What is it you wish to know?"

"You said he is alive, but is he injured? I only wish to know what care he might need when he returns home."

Michael nods his head. "We believe so, which is why it has taken them so long to act. Sir Whitlock does not wish to see any more harm befall our prince, so they were proceeding with caution."

I nod and clear my throat. "And do you know what kind of injuries he has sustained?"

He looks to the king, who nods ever so slightly, before turning back to me. "You need to understand that we were not able to get very close, so as not to give away our position. From our vantage point, the scouts could see him shackled to a post in the center of the castle's courtyard. He—"

"He was shackled?" I whisper.

"Yes, My Lady. He appeared to have an injured leg, and several bloody bandages were wrapped around his head and other parts of his body."

Tears fill my eyes. "Thank you for telling me." I turn and curtsey before the king. "Thank you for the audience, My Lord," I say, my voice giving away my trembling.

I turn on my heel and walk as quickly as my legs can carry me, escaping into the hall before my tears begin to fall in earnest. I make it to the chantry just as it becomes too much, and I collapse onto a bench, wetness streaming down my cheeks as I begin my litany of prayers.

Three full moons have passed since I laid eyes on my husband, nearly four since we wed, and I beg the Gods not too many more will pass before I see him again.

* * *

**A/N: So, we finally have some news about Edward ... and another raven. I'd love to hear your thoughts. :) **

**Unfortunately, this is where I leave you until 10/29. I'll be at the Chicago meetup this coming weekend, so there will not be an update next week. But after that—barring any catastrophes—it'll be full steam ahead. **

**I've been crazy busy with RL lately—trips and my oldest getting ready to move out (Gah!)—I haven't had a ton of time for reading. What are some rec's you'd like to share? **

**A reminder that the Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation fundraiser is in full swing. Donations are being accepted through November 24th. With your donation, the compilation will be delivered to your inbox on December 1st. I've written an EPOV outtake of his time in captivity, as well as a Duplicity outtake. To read these before March 1, 2020, see the public Facebook group, Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation, or the website, batbcomp dot blogspot dot com for more information about donating. **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	18. Chapter 17

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. I'm a chronic fiddler, so all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 17**

With my eyes closed, I block out the rest of the world as I beg the Gods to bring Edward home safely. The smell of fresh incense burning is comforting; I know Elder Afton is nearby, watching over me as I pray, but I am aware of little else. I have no sense of how long I am lost in prayer. Only the creak of the bench I am sitting upon disrupts my concentration. When I open my eyes, I am met with the sight of the king himself staring intently at the altar at the front of the chantry.

"My wife's nephew seems to think I have been unfair to you." The king's voice echoes in the silence of the all but empty chantry. "He believes I have misjudged you and your _usefulness_."

My pulse quickens at his choice of words.

He tilts his head to the side, his eyes never leaving the altar. "I am unsure if I feel betrayed that you shared details of our conversation with Lady McCarty or if I should be happy you have found someone to confide in."

"Your Majesty, I—"

"Emmett also believes Edward would want me to be more forthcoming with you. He thinks that you can bear the burden of the truth of what is happening and why it is taking so long to bring my son home."

"I would like to think I am strong enough, My Lord," I whisper.

He breathes out a heavy sigh before speaking. "There is more afoot at Broadcove castle than just my son being held captive."

"I still do not understand what my father hopes to gain by holding Edward captive. Why would he jeopardize the alliance he's just made with Galon?"

"It was not your father's men who attacked, Isabella. It was the Rheman army."

My eyes widen as the implications of his words sink in. "_Rheman_ soldiers have Edward," I whisper. My stomach knots at the thought of my husband being at the mercy of such a ruthless army. "Why is my father conspiring with Rhema?"

"He is not."

"You've just said—"

He nods once. "Yes, I did, but he is not conspiring with Rhema." The king hesitates for a moment. "I regret being the one to tell you, Isabella, but it would appear that your father was killed sometime after their army seized the castle."

"What?" My voice is merely a broken whisper. "He is dead?"

He nods. "I was told he was slain by King Aro Volturi himself." His tone changes to one of distaste. "Many years ago, I fought beside Aro in battle, and as much as I loathed your father for his treatment of his people, he did not deserve the end I am sure he received at Aro's hand."

"Why would he want to kill my father?"

"Aro has always been bloodthirsty, so I doubt it took much to persuade him to put an end to your father. I am certain Charles' alliance with us did not do him any favors."

My throat tightens and tears well in my eyes. My father may not have been a kind and caring man, but he was the only parent I had. His departure from this world brings conflicting feelings; sadness, anger, and confusion spark in my belly, and I am left to wonder how I am to feel about his death. It also raises another question. "My sisters? What of their fate?"

"We've yet to learn what has happened to them, but if I were in Aro's position, I would have married them off to strengthen Rhema's alliances."

Silence stretches between us as heaviness weighs on my heart. I may have not been close to Jane and Bree, but I would not wish them to be used as gift offerings to Rhema's allies. I shudder to think of the kind of ruthless men who align themselves with a man like Aro, a man who would invade a struggling city and slay its king. But for what?

"I do not understand. What purpose did they have in attacking Adwen?" I ask in a whisper.

"We're uncertain, but we have reason to believe seizing your homeland was not their ultimate goal."

His words roll around inside my head, but I try not to focus on what they may mean. I push away the anxiety they bring and ask a more personally pressing question. "Is there a plan to get Edward back?"

"There is, but I fear it will not be soon enough to satisfy you _or_ my wife. Now that we know with certainty who the enemy is, we know better how to proceed. We have already lost the garrison we left behind before you were brought here, and with winter raging, I cannot risk the lives of more of my men, even if it is for my son." Though blunt, his tone is remorseful.

"So, you plan to wait until spring?"

"Perhaps not spring, but certainly not in the middle of winter. The journey through the mountains to reach Adwen alone would be a death sentence for too many. And besides, we will need the time to fortify our army. With the Rheman army holding it, recapturing Adwen will be no easy feat, and we will need each and every man trained and ready."

"I understand," I whisper, lowering my gaze to my clasped hands as they lie in my lap.

"You do, don't you? Understand?"

I raise my gaze to his. "I may not like it, but I do understand, My Lord." I swallow the lump in my throat. "It is a heavy burden you bear, being responsible for the lives of so many men. It must also be difficult to put their lives before the life of your son. I do not envy your position. I have put my faith in the Gods to guide you to make the right decisions to bring Edward home, and if they have shown you this path, I must continue to put my trust in them."

He shakes his head, a rueful smile on his face. "I have always thought myself a leader who puts his trust in the Gods, but I fear I do not have the absolute faith you seem to have. You have been dedicated in your prayers, and I must commend you. Not everyone who is sent to a strange place with different beliefs takes to it as quickly as you have ... or as well." He searches my face. "Perhaps my son saw something in you I did not see at first. Perhaps Emmett is right, and I _have_ misjudged you, Isabella."

"Misjudged me, My Lord?"

"You have proven to be unwavering in your faith where my son is concerned. I allowed myself to focus my frustrations on you, but I will do my best to direct them elsewhere in the future."

"Thank you," I whisper.

"Perhaps you will allow me the chance to start over where you are concerned?" He gently takes my hand. "I believe you will be part of my family for a long while, and I do not wish to waste any more time on false or perceived grievances."

"I would like that very much." My smile is met with one in return. I feel this is the perfect opportunity to share my carefully guarded secret. It could solidify this apparent truce between us.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words are caught in my throat.

"What is it, child?"

"I have news," I say softly.

"Oh? And what news would that be?"

My heart races, and my every instinct is to guard my secret until I know for sure, but the expectation in the king's eyes spurs me on. "I believe I may be with child, My Lord," I say softly.

He blinks twice, and surprise lights his face. "Is that so?" Seconds pass before he slowly pulls his hand from mine.

"Yes." He does not reply, and my nervousness causes more words to spill from my lips. "I have suspected for many weeks, but I did not want to share my suspicions until I was certain."

"And are you certain now?"

I shake my head once, my cheeks heating as I explain. "I've not yet felt the quickening. It is too soon, My Lord," I whisper.

"Ah, I see." He slowly rises to his feet and clasps his hands behind his back; his inscrutable countenance gives away very little. I have no idea what he is thinking. That is, until he finally speaks. "That is very good news, indeed ... if it in fact is true." His eyes meet mine. "I suppose only time will tell."

As he walks from the chantry, I am left in his wake, unsettled and uncertain. While I never foresaw an outpouring of affection from him at my news, I had hoped for some sign of his acceptance. His stoic reaction is not at all what I expected.

As if hit by a battering ram, I am assaulted by the memory of the raven, just weeks ago sent to warn me. Was it then my father was killed? Or was the warning for something yet to come?

I place my hand low on my belly, over the slight swell hidden by my skirts, and say a silent prayer. This time, it is not one asking for Edward's safe return. No, this time I pray that no matter what is to come, my child is kept safe.

* * *

The next morning, I open my chamber door and am met with the worried eyes and cautious smile of my husband's cousin.

"Oh, good morning, sir."

"My Lady," he says with a slight bow. "Shall I escort you to morning prayers?"

I nod once. "Of course." We begin our trek toward the stairs, side by side. "I must say I am surprised to see you so early in the day. Has our king allowed you to leave your post in the stables simply to escort me to the prayer service?"

He smiles, although weakly. "Seems our king has had a change of heart since Michael returned. He knows my skills would be better suited to other duties."

"That is very good to hear."

We walk the halls in silence, and on more than one occasion, I hear Emmett inhale a breath as if to speak, but his words never come. By the time we reach the corridor leading to the chantry, I cannot bear it any longer.

Abruptly, I turn on my heel and face him. "What is it? I know there is something you wish to say or ask, and I think we would both feel better if you spoke what is on your mind."

At first, he appears taken aback at my directness, but as I stare up at him, it quickly disappears, an expression of determination now coloring his features. "I know I should probably offer an apology, My Lady, but—"

"An apology?"

He opens his mouth to say more, but as more people walk past us, he closes it. He gently takes my elbow in his hand and guides me into an alcove. "While I will not apologize for speaking to the king, I worry that in my haste to confront my uncle, I may have broken your trust. My wife told me you assumed she would speak to me, but I should have given more thought to how I approached the king. For that, I am sorry. And while I may need to beg your forgiveness for that, I will not apologize for speaking to my uncle about what he said to you. It was wrong for him to threaten you." His voice is low, careful to keep our conversation from passersby.

"Yes, but was it really a threat? Could he not send me away for whatever reason he sees fit? Emmett, he is the king. No one would question his judgment or his commands, no matter how unjust we might think them to be."

"You must know I would never allow him to send you back to Adwen. My cousin placed you in my care—made it my duty to watch over you and protect you—and I intend to keep my word to him, even if that means protecting you from our king."

"As you've reminded me on more than one occasion, Emmett. But your duty to me was fulfilled when I was safely delivered to Masenthorne Castle. You are no longer under any obligation to my husband or to me." I offer him a small smile. "It seems we've done nothing but apologize to one another since we arrived."

He smiles in return, albeit slightly. "It would seem so, My Lady."

"But it must end here. While I appreciate your apology, it is unnecessary. You've done more than was asked of you, Emmett, and your cousin will be eternally grateful for your steadfast loyalty to him once he returns home."

"Please understand, I had no intention of going to him so soon, if at all, but when we were all gathered and he was insisting on keeping from you what we'd learned about not only Edward but your father as well ..." He shakes his head. "I allowed my frustration with him to cloud my judgment. I only hope you can forgive me."

I reach out and touch his forearm. "You are already forgiven." A group of courtiers passes by, and I quickly remove my hand. "I understand why you spoke to him. And while I wish you could have kept it to yourself, in the end, it did not matter. The conversation I had with the king was rather pleasant."

His brow furrows. "Pleasant? That is not a word I would use to describe my uncle in recent days. He has been anything but pleasant."

"He really was. And honestly, it was probably best that you confronted him. If what you say is true, he may not have spoken with me for quite some time. And as difficult as it was to hear"— my eyes shine with tears as I offer him a sad smile—"I am glad to have learned of my father's fate directly from the king himself rather than from gossip heard at court."

He nods but says no more. I collect myself and allow him to escort me into the chantry. The prayer service has already begun. The familiar forms of the queen, Alice, Rosalie, and others sit in their respective places as they pray, so I quietly seat myself and get lost in my supplications to the Gods.

When the passage signaling the end of the service is read, I open my eyes and find the queen seated beside me, just a short distance away. The few others in attendance file out, leaving us alone.

She reaches the expanse between us and grasps my hand, squeezing it as she smiles at me. "My husband visited me just this morning. He—"

My ears perk. "Oh? Is there more news of Edward?"

She shakes her head, her bright smile falling just a bit. "No, but it was quite good news, nonetheless."

"Am I to assume it is something you wish to share?"

"I do not believe it is anything you do not already know." She turns to fully face me, and her voice lowers. "Is it true? Are you with child, Isabella?" The hope in her eyes is palpable.

I nod. "I believe so."

She wraps me in her arms, her embrace warm and comforting. "Oh, I cannot tell you how very happy this makes me."

We sit for several moments like this, just enjoying this brief moment of utter joy and happiness in an otherwise uncertain time.

She pulls back but does not fully release me. "The Gods have certainly blessed us, have they not?"

I smile and lower my head, embarrassed at the attention. "They have."

"This is just the news I was hoping for." Her smile is wide and threatens to split her face in two. "And just think, when Edward returns you will be able to tell him you carry his child."

My vision clouds with tears, and my smile rivals hers. "It is my greatest wish."

* * *

A strange energy fills the throne room as the queen and I step through its doors. Murmurs abound as I pass those gathered, walking toward the dais, and while I am used to stares and whispers on occasion, this strikes me as peculiar.

It seems as if most have heard the news of my father's death, and a few brave souls stop us to offer me their sympathies. To many, he was a tyrant, a man unfit to rule over his own people, but decency dictates they give their condolences. It leaves me feeling uncomfortable, not knowing how to reply, but I do so with as much grace as I can afford, thanking them for their concern.

The queen and I eventually make our way to our seats beside the throne, and King Carlisle is announced shortly thereafter. Instead of the usual procession of subjects asking for help from him, a silence falls over the room. Just when I begin to think we will not be hearing any petitioners this day, the king clears his throat and uncharacteristically speaks directly to the court.

"As many of you know, word arrived just yesterday that my son—your prince—has been located. I want you all to know that everything is being done to assure his safe return. Those responsible will pay dearly for their crimes, and everyone in all the surrounding kingdoms will know that the Cullens of Galon are unrivaled in their retribution." Cheers come from the men and women assembled, and their enthusiasm rouses in me a new kind of hope, one which fills me with the same energy I felt when I first stepped into the room.

"Men from the outlying villages will come to train alongside our army, to fortify our defenses. It is my greatest hope to have my son home before spring returns." The courtiers continue to express their excitement at the king's words, their happy murmurs filling the room. Meanwhile, the king turns his head and meets my gaze, his lips part as if to speak, but he closes his mouth just as quickly, turning back to the court.

Queen Esme reaches for my hand and turns to me, her eyes lit with emotion. "It is only a matter of time, Isabella. I just know Edward will be home soon."

The happiness and enthusiasm of the court, combined with the queen's absolute elation are contagious, and I am so caught up in the moment, I nearly miss the pointed gaze of the king.

* * *

Men begin to arrive in droves, their camps rising from the ground overnight and adorned with banners in colors I do not recognize. As I did so many months ago when I watched Edward's men in the far-off fields of Adwen, so too I regard these men from my window each day. They practice with their swords and footwork, but this time I know why they train.

I was told just two days ago the army will march on Adwen, planning not only to rescue my husband, but to take back the castle and the city from Aro.

Observing them, I quickly realize many of these men are not villagers but soldiers from other kingdoms. Knowing their skills are what will bring about our victory or render our defeat, I cannot tear my eyes away from watching them.

Not even the dreadful cold affects them; their training and organizing carry on as if it were a warm and sunny summer day. Their heavy furs and armor, heavier than even that which is worn by the Galon soldiers, tell me they must be from kingdoms even farther to the north.

I attend prayer services, court, and fulfill all the duties expected of me, but in the quiet moments of the early morning and the late hours of the evening, I am at my window, watching. Angela does her best to distract me, suggesting we work together to stitch extra panels into some of my dresses, to prepare for my inevitable burgeoning form, but I ignore her, instead choosing to focus on the activity in the camps just outside the gates.

Days pass, and more and more men arrive. I soon learn many of them are from Rosalie's homeland of Iredale and the house Hale. It gives me hope Edward will be home before the last of the snow disappears.

We have a long stretch of days when no flakes fall from the sky, and even the sun manages to make an appearance a time or two. It is not warm enough to melt the drifts, but it is enough to lift my spirits. The lightness follows me on my visits with Rosalie and Alice, and they seem to notice a marked change in me. I am also visited by the queen, and she, too, notices my happier mood. The reason for her visit gives me pause, though.

"But why does he feel the need for me to be examined?" I wring my hands nervously as my eyes flit to the grey-haired woman standing quietly near the door.

"I believe he just wishes to know of the health of the babe." She steps closer and lowers her voice. "And I am sure to know for certain would set the king's mind at ease."

I nod once. "Very well." I turn to the midwife. "Where would you like to do this?"

She smiles warmly. "If it pleases you, My Lady, your bedchamber would offer the most privacy and comfort."

"Of course." I turn and lead her into my bedchamber, closing the door behind me.

"Just lie down on the bed and I will do what needs to be done."

After washing and warming her hands, the midwife examines me, talking me through what she is doing. I endure the examination, internally cursing the king for his insistence on this dreadful experience. She pushes and prods, all with a look of concentration on her face. "You say you've not bled since you arrived at Masenthorne, My Lady?" Her brows knit together, and her eyes light with concern.

I nod. "Yes, that is right. Why? Is there a problem?"

She shakes her head but says no more. When she is finished, I breathe a sigh of relief to have it over and done. I watch as she washes her hands yet again, and I cannot stop the panic bubbling up inside me.

"Please tell me if something is wrong. I cannot bear not knowing."

"No, My Lady, there is nothing wrong that I can see, but if you've seen four full moons since you've bled, you should be just a little larger than you are, that's all." She smiles reassuringly. "But I can say for certain you are carrying."

A smile spreads across my face at her confirmation but then falls as I realize what she's just said. "But you say the babe is small? Is the child well?"

"Even if he is a bit small, I am sure the child is well. Babes tend to measure up to their mothers at their own births, so if you were just a mite, then your own child could be as well. Did your mother ever tell you if you were a wee thing when you were born?"

I lower my head and shake it. "My mother died giving birth to me," I say softly.

"Oh, I am so very sorry! Please forgive me for—"

I reach for her hand and squeeze it as my eyes meet hers. "There is nothing to forgive. You did not know. It is not as if it is common knowledge in Galon. So please, no apologies are necessary." I smile, but the one I gain in return does not reach her eyes. In fact, worry settles over her features. "What is it?" I ask.

"Did anyone ever tell you what difficulties your mother had birthing you? I need to know if it is something I should prepare for when the time comes."

I inhale deeply and blow it out slowly. "I only know what the servants whispered when they thought I wasn't listening."

"And what did you hear, My Lady?"

"That the midwife had to cut me from my mother's body, and she bled to death." My voice trembles as I retell the story I've heard from the time I was just a young girl. Stories that, at the time, gave me vivid nightmares. Stories my sisters would use to torment me, to blame me for our mother's death.

The warm, worn hand of the midwife grasps mine. "I am so very sorry you never had the chance to know your mother. And now that I'm aware of how you made your way into the world, I'll be better prepared when the time comes to deliver this one." Her free hand comes to rest on the small swell of my abdomen. "And I will do all in my power to assure you both make it through safely."

I give her a small smile. "Thank you."

She sees herself out, and the queen slips through the bedchamber door just moments later.

"I spoke with the midwife," she says excitedly as she approaches my bed. "Now that it is official, I've sent a messenger to inform the king." She takes my hands in hers as I rise from the bed. "We have so much to prepare for." Her eyes light with excitement.

After hours of talk of the babe's nursery, his dresses, _my_ dresses, not to mention the ceremonies that will be required once he arrives, the queen finally sees herself out and I make my way to bed.

Pulling the heavy blankets and furs over me, I settle into their warmth and close my eyes. As my breathing slows and my body begins to relax, a faint fluttering sensation tickles me from the inside.

"Oh!" My hand is drawn to the feeling as if an unstoppable force is pulling it closer, and it settles low over my belly. "Hello, little one. I cannot wait to meet you," I whisper. Joy fills me as I realize this is the quickening I've been waiting for. The joy I feel, however, is short-lived as shouts of warning echo through the glass of my window.

My heart pounds in my chest as I rush from my bed to see what is going on, and I am met with a sight I had only dared to imagine.

Men on horseback thunder through the castle gates, dirty and frayed baldrics of green and gold strapped across the chests of the riders. I know these men are not from Iredale, or from any of the other surrounding villages. These are men of Galon, men who have been away from home for far too long. No, the return of these men can mean only one thing, and his name escapes me in a breath.

"Edward."

* * *

**A/N: So, was it worth the wait? ;) I'd love to hear what you thought. **

**Time for some creepy recs! **

**Breakable by mariescullen is a daily updating WIP that should wrap up by Halloween. I'm waiting till it completes because I want to read this one in one fell swoop. ;) Summary: Beneath the sparkling blue eyes hid something sinister. They say beauty is skin deep, but what about what lurks beneath?**

**The Remnants by Mei Li Young is a zombie fic that I absolutely loved. Summary: In a world where the dead eat people, it is survival of the fittest. Caring for others is not a luxury that the remnants of the human race have. For Edward, this rule of survival is tested when Bella enters his life. **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	19. Chapter 18

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 18**

Quickly, I put on a dress I manage to tie without assistance. I slip my feet into my fur-lined boots and my arms into Edward's cloak before I rush from the room. Without a second glance at the guard stationed at the end of the hall outside my chambers, I hurry through the corridors and down the stairs, nearly missing the turns that lead outside.

The cold air hits me like a slap to my face, and I swallow a deep gasp of it, burning my lungs. But I ignore the sting and push my way through the crowd that has assembled, despite this late hour.

One of the men on horseback bellows above the throng of people as he moves to dismount. "I seek an audience with the king!"

Those gathered press forward, shouting questions, asking things I myself need answers to.

"_Where is the prince?"_

"_Is he alive?"_

"_Where is everyone else?"_

A large arm wraps around my shoulders, and I gasp in surprise. I look up and find the blue eyes of the one accosting me.

"You should not be here, Isabella." Emmett's rebuke is stern, but it is not enough to chase me back inside the keep.

I shake my head. "I will not go back inside, Emmett. I need to be here. I need to know." My hand wraps around his as it gently holds my upper arm, and I plead with him. "Please."

His shoulders fall and he huffs out a resigned breath. "Fine, but you will stay by my side."

"Of course, just do not send me away."

I turn back to the man leading the group of riders and watch as he hands the reins to someone in the crowd. He begins to walk with purpose toward the castle steps but barely makes it five paces before Emmett's voice calls out over the horde assembled.

"Peter!"

The man's head snaps to us, recognition lighting his eyes. "Emmett," he says just loudly enough for us to hear. His shoulders visibly relax, as if he's just realized someone is here to help him carry the burden of his duty, and he steps toward us.

When he reaches Emmett, they embrace as only men do, arms wide and all-encompassing as they wrap around one another. Their voices are muffled as they exchange words with their heads tilted together and their hands gripping the back of each other's neck. Seeing them this way, I comprehend just how much of a brotherhood these men share. They have fought beside one another countless times, likely bled alongside one another, and they have finally been reunited. Judging by Peter's appearance, gaunt and filthy, his journey home was not an easy one.

They finally release one another. "Come," Emmett says as he heads toward the castle steps. "I can take you to the king."

Peter nods and follows us inside. When his gaze finally lands on me, his eyes widen. "Your Highness, it is good to see you safe."

I nod once, unable to ask the questions burning on my tongue.

"Edward will be happy to hear of it."

My heart begins to race, and I am finally able to speak. "So, he is well? Alive? Is everyone else just behind you?"

His eyes flash to Emmett, as if asking if he should answer. Emmett nods once as he stares straight ahead, leading us through the halls. Peter looks back to me. "If they manage the pace they were at when I left them, they are only a day or so behind us, My Lady."

Relief like I have never known floods through me, and tears of joy and relief fill my eyes. "That is wonderful to hear, Peter." I grasp his hand as he walks beside me. "Thank you."

He nods, his cheeks pinking at my display of gratitude. "It is the least I can do to set your mind at ease." He opens his mouth as if to say more, but he is cut off by Emmett as we approach the corridor leading to the king's chambers.

"Isabella, I am afraid you will have to wait outside," Emmett says regretfully. "I will send someone with word as soon as we know more."

I nod. "I understand."

Peter's hand slips from mine as they walk away, and I am left to stand alone, waiting for word of my husband.

It does not take long before I am joined by the queen and Alice. The tiredness in my new sister's eyes is only matched by the worry I find there as well. She awaits news of not just her brother, but her husband as well. I can only imagine the turmoil she is feeling.

The three of us sit side by side, Alice and I with our hands intertwined in support, as we wait for someone to emerge from the king's chambers. Time passes and we watch more men come and go from the room, but none offers us any information or reassurances. I am quickly losing patience, and as the queen grows more restless beside me, I realize I must not be the only one.

"This is ridiculous!" She rises to her feet and stands straight, looking down at Alice and me. "If they will not send someone out to tell us where my son is, I will just go find out for myself."

She strides confidently toward the door and pushes past the men guarding it. The look of shock on their faces would otherwise make me laugh, but there is too much anxiety inside me to find humor in anything.

It takes mere moments for the door to open again. The queen's face emerges to call us inside the king's rooms.

Alice and I do not hesitate. We hold tightly to one another's hands as we rush toward the door, hopeful of getting the answers we so desperately need.

The scene we walk into is rife with unease. The king stands before the roaring fire, his head bowed and his hands clasped behind his back as he stares into the flames. Emmett, Peter, and a few of the king's advisors stand nearby.

Alice and I step farther into the room, and the king's head rises. His eyes do not meet mine as I expect, but instead meet those of his daughter.

No words are spoken at first, tension stretching across the room like a taut thread, ready to snap at the slightest touch. I hold my breath as I wait to hear the news Peter has brought, my heart pounding in my chest. I clamp my lips tightly together, barely containing my pleas to know of my husband's wellbeing.

The king is the first to break the silence. "Edward is alive." His eyes flash to mine before returning to Alice. "And he, along with the rest of the men, should return to Masenthorne by sunset tomorrow. Well, perhaps it is today. I do not know." He rubs at his temples and momentarily closes his eyes.

The sight of him less composed than usual has me on edge, and I am not the only one to notice it.

The queen's eyes narrow on her husband, and she gives voice to what we must all be thinking. "There is more, though, isn't there? What is it?"

The king's gaze falls on his wife but returns, yet again, to his daughter. "Our son's rescue was one of opportunity, but it was not without cost."

Alice's grasp, her hand still intertwined with mine, tightens. "Jasper?" His name passes her lips in a whisper, a plea of her own.

"Is alive," her father reassures. "But he is injured." He looks to Peter—who nods almost imperceptibly—and then to all of us. "Everyone in the rescue party, Edward included, is injured or wounded to some degree." He locks eyes with Alice once again. "None so badly as Jasper, though. They fear he may not live through the night."

The cry which escapes Alice makes my heart ache for her. In all of my praying and hoping for Edward's safe return, rarely did I stop to truly consider the men who would be putting their own lives at risk to save him. And now a woman whom I consider a sister must endure the pain of knowing her own husband suffers.

"Elder Afton and the castle's healer have already been summoned, and we've sent messengers to the neighboring villages for healers and apothecaries to be ready to assist if we are unable to handle the men's injuries." He looks around to all of the blank faces as we absorb what he is telling us. "While our priest will tend to my son and Lord Whitlock, the servants will tend to the others injured. We owe it to the men to give them the best care possible for ensuring my son's return home."

* * *

"No, here." I hand Angela the quilt from my own bed. "This is softer."

She takes it but pauses with it still held between us. "Are you sure, My Lady?"

"Of course, I am sure. Why would I not want him to have a more comfortable bed to lie in?"

She hesitates.

"What is it, Angela?" My question is curt and pointed as I stare at her. My husband's impending arrival has made me feel as though I am walking on a knife's edge; I'm ready to lash out one moment and dissolve into a puddle of tears the next.

"Perhaps we should wait until we know how serious his injuries are. I would hate for your linens to be—"

"Do you think I care at all about my quilt being ruined?" I shout in the quiet of Edward's otherwise empty chambers. My handmaiden's eyes widen at my outburst. "I only care that he is returning home, that he is alive, Angela. I know how long he has been held captive, and we've traveled the road from Adwen to Galon, so I realize the conditions he's had to endure since he was rescued. I am fully aware of the state he will be in when he arrives. He'll be dirty, reeking to the heavens, bleeding." My voice finally cracks, and the tears I've managed to keep at bay spill from my eyes.

Knowing he is injured without knowing the severity of it has been weighing heavily on me, and all of the emotions I've been suppressing bubble to the surface. I allow myself a moment to just _feel_, and the tears fall freely, but I cannot wallow in my sadness for long. As the afternoon sun begins to shine through the shuttered windows, I know Edward's return is fast approaching.

I stand tall and wipe my eyes. "There is still much to do. Go see about Elder Afton. He should have been to see about arrangements by now."

Angela nods and curtsies quickly before disappearing through the bedchamber door. I busy myself with adding more furs and blankets to the bed, making sure Edward will have what he needs to be comfortable. As I smooth my hand over the quilt now lying on top, the door opens.

Elder Afton is led in by the queen herself, directing servants where to place the bundles of supplies they carry. I am overwhelmed as they place bandages, bottles of tinctures and herbs, and a wrapped bundle on a long side table near the window.

Curiously, my hands brush over the strips of linen and colorful bottles, but I pause as they reach the wrapped bundle. Sharp, pointed ends protrude from the top. "What is this?"

"That will be all," the queen says to the women still lingering in the room. "Be sure all the fires are lit. We'll have bedding to wash and wounds to clean, and I do not want to be waiting for water to warm when it is needed."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The women curtsy before stepping out of the room and closing the door.

The queen and Elder Afton briefly glance at one another. Esme nods before the priest finally turns to me. "The details Peter was able to give us were murky at best. We do not know for certain what injuries we'll be dealing with, and we want to be prepared for every eventuality."

"Prepared?" Puzzled, I look back to the bundle. With shaky hands, I untie the cording holding it together and unroll it. My heart begins to beat a little more quickly and my chest tightens as I take in the sharp, gleaming blades laid out before me. "What are these for?" I ask, unwilling to believe what I already suspect.

Elder Afton clears his throat. "Your Highness, I do not think—"

"Isabella," the queen interrupts, "Edward was held for months under less than pleasant circumstances. There is a chance there is infection that will need to be cut away, or worse."

I sniff and swallow as I blink back tears. "No, we cannot—"

"But if he needs it to survive, we must. We will not know for certain until he is home."

I turn to both of them, my eyes blazing with determination. "He is strong. The strongest man I know. There will be no need for any of this," I say, my hand waving over the offensive items.

The queen offers me a sad smile. "I hope you are right."

* * *

Trumpets sound as they appear on the horizon just as the sun begins to set. Nervous anticipation fills me, and it takes every bit of my restraint not to run to meet them. At one point, Emmett has to physically hold me in place.

"No, My Lady," he implores me, his hand gently gripping my shoulder. "There are men riding out to meet them. See?" As we stand side by side on the walkway over the portcullis, he points down to the men saddling their horses in the courtyard.

"But I—"

"Believe me when I say they will be here sooner if they do not have to concern themselves with your safety."

"My safety? I'm perfectly capable—"

"Yes, I am aware of your capabilities, but _they_ are not." His eyes soften. "Please let them do this and he will be here that much sooner."

Accepting he is right, I huff a breath and turn back to watch the riders take off in a gallop. My heart seems to beat as fast as their hooves, and I wring my hands as their forms grow smaller as they ride away.

"Isabella." The queen's voice calls out from behind us, and I snap my head in her direction. "Do you plan for him to walk up the stairs to greet you?" she asks with just a hint of amusement.

I shake my head and feel my cheeks heat. "No, Mother."

"Then I suggest you follow me to the courtyard. I doubt it will take them long to arrive now that they have some assistance."

I nod and turn back to look over the landscape. Past the courtyard, past the castle's outer wall and over the low buildings of the outlying city, I watch as the riders reach the small group of men, the group that includes my husband. I turn back to the queen. "Please, lead the way."

The courtyard is lined with people; servants stand at the ready with supplies to help those in immediate need. Healers from the outlying villages who arrived just hours ago are prepared to assist as well. The king and queen stand next to Elder Afton as they wait for the men to pass through the gates. Alice and I are arm in arm as we wait for our husbands, Emmett standing just beside us.

The thumps of the horses' hooves and the turning of heavy wagon wheels are heard before they are seen. When the men come into view, all the breath in my body escapes me. The entire lot of them are bedraggled and worn, their clothing threadbare and tattered by the elements. They all wear the same ashen skin and sunken cheeks, making them appear more than just brothers in arms, but brothers by blood.

Suddenly, shouts ring out as the men come to a stop in the courtyard, and everyone moves to action. Some rush to help men dismount or rise from the two carts being pulled behind the horses.

The shock of blond hair peeking over the edge of one of them sends Alice running. My hand covers my mouth to contain my cries as Jasper's limp body is pulled from the wagon. The men hoist him into their arms and hurry through the parting crowd, disappearing into the corridors of the castle, with Alice doing her best to keep up.

I close my eyes and say a quick and silent prayer to the Gods that he is alive and will recover quickly. When I reopen them, I scan the small group, searching for Edward, and when I finally find him, I gasp. Sitting atop his horse, he is dirty, thin, and pale like his companions. He is bruised and bloodied, his matted hair even longer than I remember, and I ache to take him into my arms and comfort him, no matter his current state. Unable to tear my eyes away, I watch as Edward looks over the crowd, searching, almost frantically, and I know it is for me. I step toward him, willing him to see me in the flurry of activity swirling around us. When his gaze lands on me, I stop and am rooted to my spot, heavy and weighed down by the intense feeling of relief that flows through me.

He is alive. He is home.

* * *

**A/N: The prince has returned! Is everyone as excited as I am? I'd love to hear your thoughts. **

**Time for some recs! **

**Recently completed is Fall From Grace by ceceprincess1217. This one is a cheat fic, but there's a HEA! Summary: Theirs is a love story, a fairy tale, they are the ones who have it all.**

**And a WIP I need to dive into is The Beard by PearlyFox. Summary: "He's so not into girls, it's a shame." "Don't go out with her if you want to have a good time, she's a total nun." That's what people think about Bella & Edward. But they have a plan and it's about to turn everyones' head.**

**Remember, if you want to know what happened to Edward during his time away—from his POV—before March 1, 2020, donate $10 to the ALCU or RAICES for your copy of the 2019 Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation by November 24, 2019 to receive your copy via email on December 1, 2019. Please visit batbcomp dot blogspot dot com or the public Facebook page, Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation, for more details. I really hope you'll donate to this worthy cause. If you're unable to donate, the outtake will post to my profile on March 1, 2020.**

**Here's a little snippet for you. ;) **

**Captive : A Dominion of My Heart outtake. **

**Summary: Taken in the dark of night, Edward endures the cruelty of his enemies, both old and new. Will he be able to survive his captivity? An outtake written in EPOV, these are the events following those in chapter eleven of Dominion of My Heart.**

"_Edward!" Her scream echoes across the distance. My head turns, and our eyes meet. In that one moment of distraction, the enemy wielding his sword strikes. His blade grazes my right arm, but it is enough to cause my sword to fall from my grasp. The men surrounding us take the opportunity in my moment of weakness to seize me._

_Isabella's muffled screams are but a buzzing in the chaos that follows, and when I am able to meet her eyes once again, with flames and an army between us, I mouth a single order. _

"_Go!"_

_She hesitates, and I will her feet to move, for her to escape to safety, and with a final pleading look, she turns and runs into the darkness._

_My eyes close, and I say a quick prayer of thanks to the Gods._

"_Oh, He'll be mighty happy to see your pretty face," a voice taunts me from beyond my closed lids. I do not see the blow to my head coming, but I am soon blissfully unaware, swallowed by the darkness. _

A kick to my bruised side startles me from my repeating nightmare. Smells of soot and ash, along with the burnt remnants of a ruined meal assault me as I gain consciousness. When my eyes open, I find I am still in the same hell in which I fell asleep.

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	20. Chapter 19

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 19 **

Edward's eyes do not leave mine as people rush to help him from his saddle. His movements are stiff, slow, but he does not wince or cower at their touch, though his jaw remains tight. He watches me, even as his worn boots hit the ground. Drawn like a moth to a flame, I am in motion, my feet moving of their own accord. Once I'm close enough to reach out and touch him, he moves quickly, escaping the grasp of the men helping him remain upright. His arms wrap completely around me, and I am lost. His weight settles on me as he holds me tightly, and it is a welcome feeling.

"You are home." My words are muffled against his chest, and he holds me tighter.

He leans down and breathes me in, placing a kiss upon the top of my head. I peer up at him just as he rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed tightly. "I am. I apologize it took so long, my wife." His voice is soft, raspy and hoarse from the cold and likely disuse, but it is the most beautiful sound I have heard in months. I also notice bruises and small cuts, still healing on his sunken cheeks.

"My Lord, it might be best to take this reunion indoors," Emmett says from behind me, interrupting our all too brief moment. "It would certainly be warmer."

Edward's head turns up at the sound of his cousin's voice. He shifts me to his side and extends his free hand to his cousin.

"It is good to have you home, My Lord."

Edward nods in reply but remains silent.

"It has been a long journey, cousin. We really should get you inside." Emmett looks over his shoulder at the people hovering nearby before turning back to Edward. "And if we do not, I fear they may strip you down for inspection right here to tend to your injuries."

Edward attempts a smile, but it appears more of a grimace before he gives a stiff nod, allowing Emmett and me to assist him toward the corridors leading into the castle. His steps are slow and arduous, and I do my best to support him as we walk, my arm wrapped around his waist as he leans on me. Emmett and I exchange a look but say nothing as we walk on either side of him.

When we reach his parents, Edward breathes deeply and stands as straight and still as possible before bowing stiffly in his father's presence. He remains silent.

The king's eyes fill with untold emotion, but his reply does not convey any of it. "It is good to have you home, son."

Again, Edward nods in response, but before he can speak, Esme crashes into him in an uncharacteristically public display.

"Oh, Edward. I was so worried." Her sobs are quieted against the many layers of his clothing as she wraps him in a hug.

He holds her with the arm not holding on to me, patting her back.

Esme pulls back and looks up at her son, her eyes shining with tears. "I thought we'd lost you."

Edward smiles tightly, his exhaustion clear on his face.

"Mother, perhaps we can see him to his chambers so he can be looked over," I suggest, anxious to have a moment alone with my husband.

Her eyes widen. "Oh, yes. Certainly. I do not know what I was thinking. Come, let us get you settled." She reaches for his hand, but Emmett steps in.

"Your Majesty, perhaps it is best if I assist him." He leans in toward her and lowers his voice. "His Highness seems a bit unsteady on his feet."

Thankfully, she relents, for I am unwilling to release him, and we make the long trek through the halls of Masenthorne Castle, one slow, shuffled step at a time.

There are a handful of trusted servants waiting in his sitting room when we arrive, and as we walk slowly into his bedchamber, they follow close behind. We relinquish Edward to them, and Emmett excuses himself from the room, following behind his aunt, who has taken off to acquire more supplies.

I stand at a distance as they work together to help him strip out of the clothes he wears. With every layer being peeled away, more and more of his gaunt, bruised skin is exposed. Imagining the horrors he's endured in his time away brings tears to my eyes. When he is left in only his linen shirt and undergarments, I have to swallow down a sob. The fabric, stained by blood and dirt, clings to his skin.

The fire illuminates his profile, and I watch his face screw up in pain as his shirt is slowly peeled from his body. Fresh scars mar his flesh, scabbed over cuts and gashes the least of them. Many of them are jagged lines, some of them distinct patterns, still an angry red so many weeks later. The agony he has suffered is clear.

The healer probes the worst of his wounds, asking questions, and Edward gives murmured, curt answers. His jaw is clenched, growing more tense each time the man touches him.

As he stands across the room, wounded and nearly naked, our eyes meet, and what I see steals my breath. Pain and embarrassment are reflected back at me, and he quickly turns away.

A servant walks in the space between my husband and myself, and his presence snaps me out of my daze. He carries a steaming ewer of water across the room and pours it into the wash basin. As the servant approaches him with a damp cloth, Edward seems to find his voice.

"Leave us."

My eyes widen at his abrupt tone of voice. "My Lord?"

There is quiet murmuring between Edward and the man checking over his wounds, and I drop my gaze to my clasped hands. The sound of the healer clearing his throat returns my attention to him.

"My Lady?" The man speaks quietly and quickly to Edward before looking to me. "You might be more comfortable waiting in your chambers."

"Oh, of course," I say quickly, suddenly anxious to flee the room. "I shall just ..." I turn and hurry toward the door, fumbling with the latch in my rush to escape.

I stumble through the doorway of the bedchamber, through the sitting room, and out into the corridor. The curious gaze of guards and servants all fall on me, and my cheeks heat as I turn to walk toward my own chambers, my feet picking up their pace as I get farther away from my husband.

With a pounding heart and tears building behind my lashes, I nearly run into my own chambers, slamming the door closed, and locking out the rest of the world. An overwhelming flood of emotions washes over me, leaving me sobbing as I fall onto my bed, curled into a ball. When I've finally purged all I can, I roll to my back and lie awake until the morning sun begins to peek through my window.

Before Angela arrives for her morning duties, I manage to dress myself and am at my husband's chamber door, knocking and asking for entry.

"His Highness is resting, My Lady." The guard stands just inside Edward's sitting room, and his expression is stern. "He does not wish to be disturbed."

I move to push past him. "I only wish to—"

He gently pushes back, his touch light but with intent. "He has asked that he not be disturbed, My Lady," he repeats.

I narrow my eyes at the man blocking my path to my husband. "And has he accepted any other visitors?

"No, Your highness. Other than Elder Afton and the healer, only the servants have been admitted."

I stand straight, breathing sharply through my nose. "Very well. Can you at least tell me if he is well? Is he eating? Is he allowing meals to be brought?"

"The healer just left, and there was nothing new to report. He only said to allow His Highness to rest. And yes, My Lady, he has taken his meals."

I nod once. "Would you see to it that someone sends word when he is accepting visitors?"

"Of course, Your Highness," he says with a nod.

Three days pass. For three days, with each changing of the guard, I attempt to see him, and each time, I am refused. Each time, I inquire about his well-being and am assured he is resting, but it does nothing to heal my wounded heart. The piteous looks I receive from the men who turn me away only add to my distress.

Every day, my heart breaks a little more.

I do my best to see it from Edward's perspective; he likely does not wish for me to see him so weak. If only he knew how much I wish to simply be in his presence. I would be content to merely hear his voice.

Elder Afton's attention is on the wounded men who have taken up residence in the castle, so the chantry is empty, leaving me to say my prayers in peace, and I take full advantage of the quiet space to pour out my heart. Not only am I praying for Edward's health, but I pray for Jasper's as well.

I am told he still lives, though his condition continues to be grave. With Edward's life not in any immediate danger, Queen Esme has not left her daughter's side since the men arrived home, only slipping away each sunrise to join me in the chantry to pray.

"I wish there was more I could do for her." The queen shakes her head as she sits beside me on the pew. "She needs to rest, eat, to care for her son, but she refuses to leave her husband's side." She turns to me. "Perhaps you can speak to her?"

My smile is a sad one. "I doubt she would listen to me. And besides, if I were in her place, allowed to be at my husband's bedside, I would not wish to leave either."

Her brow furrows in confusion. "Allowed? He has not allowed you to visit him? Why was I not told he is refusing to see you?" She rises from her seat, and I reach out to gently grasp her arm.

I shake my head. "Please, _please_ do not concern yourself with it, Mother." She slowly lowers herself back to the pew. "As much as it pains me that he will not see me, I understand."

She opens her mouth to speak, but I continue.

"Truly, I do. He is ..." I consider my words carefully. I know he is weak, injured, but I do not wish to speak of him in an unflattering light. "He needs to rest, and I do not wish to disturb him as he heals." I force a smile. "Perhaps he will return to us sooner if I stay away."

She gently squeezes my hand in hers. "Sweet child, I sometimes fear your heart is too gentle for this world. No, my son is being obstinate, stubborn, much like his father can be." She reaches toward me and tilts my chin until I meet her eyes. "What he does not realize is he needs the strength only an attentive wife can give him. I will not stand idly by and allow him to push away what the Gods saw fit to give him." She releases me and rises to her feet.

"Please, do not say anything," I beg. "I do not wish for him to see me only if it is a command." The truth of my own words puts a knot in my throat. "Please," I whisper.

The queen looks down on me with a sad smile. "But why? He could use a reminder of where he can find his strength to move past this ordeal." She draws a breath, as if to speak, but hesitates.

"What is it?"

"Perhaps if he were told about the child you carry, he would want to see you," she says softly. "Men have an innate need to protect what is theirs, to see it with their own eyes, and knowing you carry his child may be just the thing to bring him to his senses."

"I do not wish to disturb him," I say softly, my dispute weak to even my own ears.

She resumes her place beside me. "Even with such joyous news?"

I smile, but it is not a happy one. "I've imagined so many times what it would be like to tell him. The look in his eye, the smile on his face." I shake my head to rid myself of my the daydream. "But maybe you are right." I meet her eyes. "Perhaps hearing about the babe would encourage him to see me."

"Do you wish me to tell him?"

I think of all the options, of all the ways he could find out about his child, and after hearing it from my own lips, coming from his mother is the next best thing. "If he will see you, yes."

"Then I will make sure of it." Wrapping an arm around me, she kisses the side of my head. "Oh, daughter," she says with a sigh. "The men we are tied to are so often seen only as men of war, warriors who lead others into battle. They themselves forget they are mere men; men who need, on occasion, to be cared for." She turns to me, her expression earnest. "And it is our duty to remind them we are their safe harbors in their times of need." She stands, leaning over and kissing the top of my head, whispering, "Remind him why he chose you. Be his strength."

She quietly walks out of the chantry, leaving me to wonder if I will be able to be the strength my husband needs ... and if he will allow it.

* * *

Bright light shines through the windows, finding its way past the heavy curtains surrounding my bed.

"Glad to see you so well rested, My Lady, but it is probably best if you don't sleep away the rest of the day."

Angela's enthusiastic greeting as she opens my bed curtains confuses me as I raise my head from my pillow. "Good morning," I say as I rub the sleep from my eyes.

"You've slept straight through the morning, My Lady. It is nearly midday."

"Oh. I did not realize." As I wake more fully, I remember my conversation with Esme just last night. "Has the queen sent word for me?"

Angela nods her head. "She has, My Lady." She reaches into her apron pocket and pulls out a folded parchment, handing it to me.

_Daughter,_

_He allowed me to see him. He is well. Still abed, but he is well. He has been told, but had no reply other than to send me away. I beg of you to go to him. Insist he see you. I fear he is lost in his own personal anguish._

_Remember, be his strength._

_~Mother_

I run my fingers over her heartfelt plea, tears welling in my eyes at the implications they have. It is quite possible he is drowning in his own pain and is too proud to ask for help.

Angela interrupts my inner musings. "You missed the morning meal, but I put together a small plate for you from what was left over."

I clear my throat and blink away my tears. "Thank you."

She smiles over her shoulder at me as she works on stoking the fire. I sit up fully and rest my hand over my middle. Whenever it may be, just after I wake is my favorite time of day; the babe growing within me makes small, gentle movements in the quiet moments after I open my eyes, and it brings a genuine smile to my face.

My smile falls when I think of Edward missing these precious moments as he convalesces. I raise my eyes to my friend. "Has there been any word about my husband?"

She brushes her hands over her apron as she stands, shaking her head. "No, but I don't yet expect to. From what I overheard in the kitchen just this morning, His Highness is now refusing to see _anyone—_Elder Afton, any of the visiting healers_—_and he is still abed himself. But I imagine his journey was more than tiring." She smiles softly. "He just may sleep for days."

I return her smile and gratefully take the plate she offers.

"If there is nothing else, I shall leave you to rest, My Lady. Please send for me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Angela," I say, absentmindedly. As I nibble on the offerings on my plate, I mull over the plea in Queen Esme's note.

_Go to him. _

_Be his strength._

Emboldened by her words, I realize what I must do. But as I run a hand over my head, my eyes widen as I realize just how frightful I must look after lying abed nearly all day. There is no way I can ready myself without assistance. I call out. "Angela, wait!"

Her footsteps halt before she reaches the door, and she turns to me. "Yes, My Lady?"

"I need help to dress. I am going to see my husband."

* * *

I walk slowly toward his chamber door, and the guard stationed there says nothing. I am sure the queen has spoken to him when he says nothing to stop me. My knuckles rap against the wood, and my heart begins to race as the footsteps within the room grow louder.

The door cracks open, and the face of a servant appears. When recognition dawns, he opens it fully for me to enter.

Edward's chambers are dark as I stride into the siting room, the fire the only light. I am about to ask why the lamps have not been lit when the servant speaks.

"His Highness has not requested an audience with you, My Lady." His quavering voice belies his confident stance.

I nod once. "I am well aware." I swallow my trepidation but try to show my own confidence in my voice. "I wish to see him."

He hesitates, but only for a moment, before motioning me toward Edward's bedchamber.

The room is dark, quiet, much like his sitting room, and not at all full of the bustling activity it was just a few days ago. The fire in the hearth is burning, but it appears not to have been stoked in quite a while. I step toward it, intending to add a log, but a deep, raspy voice stops me in my tracks.

"What are you doing?"

Startled, I turn, looking toward his bed. "Edward?"

The rustle of his bed linens signals his shifting, likely sitting up against his pillows. "Of course, it is me. Is it not my chambers on which you've decided to intrude?"

The drawn curtains create a cave of darkness, but I step toward it, and despite his harsh tone, the pull I feel toward him is as strong as I remember.

"I will ask again. What were you doing?"

I point toward the hearth. "The fire is in need of another log. I was—"

"Leave it, Isabella. I will not have my wife tending to me like a servant, especially when she is—" He heaves a heavy sigh but says nothing more.

Unsure what I should do, I stand stock still, my hands clasped before me. He says no more, though I can feel his eyes on me. The longer he does not speak, the more uncomfortable the silence becomes. Sensing my presence is unwanted, I swallow down the lump in my throat and speak with all the poise I can manage. "I am sorry to have disturbed you, My Lord. I shall take my leave."

I resist the urge to fall to my knees, begging him to allow me to stay, and turn to step toward the door. As my hand reaches the handle, two words—strained and gravelly—are enough to halt my escape.

"Stay ... please."

* * *

**A/N: So, in her notes, jayhawkbb asked me when Edward was going to stop being a d-bag. Lol. Yeah, it wasn't quite the warm and fuzzy reunion most of you were hoping for. But let's give him the benefit of the doubt. He's been through an awful lot. I'd love to hear your thoughts! **

**Time for some recs!**

**A brand new vamp fic is in the works. Shooting Star by one of my lovely pre-readers is off to a great start. It's a post New Moon AU. Summary: Make a wish on a falling star, and your dreams can come true. If only it could be that easy. Years after they left, the Cullens are back. What Bella's heart wants conflicts with her self-preservation and other bumps in her life. Can she trust that he would never leave again? **

**Recently completed is Desperate Measures by Christi Whitson. I've heard a lot of good things about this vamp fic, but I've not had a chance to read it. It can be found exclusively on her blog, acedfiction dot Wordpress dot com. Summary: When Bella's hallucinations of Edward became her only source of comfort, she had to find new and creative ways to trigger them. Now, Edward is back and determined to earn her trust… and her submission.**

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	21. Chapter 20

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember all mistakes are mine.**

****PLEASE** read the AN at the end. Some important info is there regarding the BatB fundraiser and the posting schedule for DoMH. **

* * *

Previously ...

_I resist the urge to fall to my knees, begging him to allow me to stay, and turn to step toward the door. As my hand reaches the handle, two words—strained and gravelly—are enough to halt my escape. _

"_Stay ... please." _

* * *

**Chapter 20**

I look back over my shoulder, but he is still hidden in the shadows. "But you—"

"I know what I said," he rasps, but then his voice softens. "Or did not say." His exhale is loud in the quiet of the room. The rustle of fabric accompanies the movement of his bed curtains. When the dim light of the fire falls upon his face, I very nearly cry in relief at the sight of him.

"I am sorry." His earnest expression has me rushing toward him, eager to be at his side.

When I reach him, I fall to my knees at his bedside. "No, My Lord"—I fervently shake my head— "do not apologize. It is I who should be sorry; sorry for coming to you uninvited, for forcing you to see me. I am so very sorry."

His fingertips reach out to brush over my cheek, and the sensation sends ripples down my spine. "Please do not apologize, Isabella ... my beautiful wife. I am just so ..." He withdraws his hand and rubs at his brow, exhaustion and agony still so clear on his face.

I gently brush away his hand, replacing his harsh rub with my gentle touch. "I know," I whisper. "But you are home now, and there is nothing for you to do but rest and heal."

His gaze is pointed, intense and focused on me. I would give anything to know what he is thinking.

A harsh wind blows beyond the castle wall, rattling the window with its intensity, and Edward visibly shudders.

"Are you cold?" I ask softly, unwilling to break the tentative peace that has settled between us. He nods, and I rise to my feet, turning toward the hearth.

"Isabella, please." His voice is sharp, pained. "I may be sorry for speaking to you so harshly, but I do not want you to do the work of a servant."

I kneel and reach for a log, placing it in the dying fire. "I know you do not, but do not take away my right as a wife to care for my husband." I use the poker to stoke the dimming embers, bringing the flames back to life.

"It is not right," he grouses as I rise to my feet, brushing off my hands.

I turn back to him. "So, you would rather call for a servant to do it? Invite someone into your bedchamber to do something which took me all of a moment to accomplish?"

His brow furrows, and the corner of his mouth turns down as he huffs a breath. "No, I would not."

I return to his side. "Then please stop worrying yourself over such things. I would much rather have this time alone." I lower myself to my knees once again and take his hand. "It has been much too long." I bring his reddened, cracked knuckles to my lips, placing a kiss upon them.

"It has." He reaches out with his free hand to push my hair behind my ear as the fire crackles and pops its way back to a blaze. "Every time I closed my eyes, I saw you. I dreamed of you," he whispers.

"And I, you, My Lord. My Edward." Happy tears gather in my eyes, and I watch as his begin to shine with his own tears in the brightening firelight. But there is also remorse reflected back at me.

"I am sorry I sent you away, that I would not see you. I—"

I shake my head. "You do not need to—"

"I do, Isabella. My mother came to see me and made me see how _obstinate_ I was being. She reminded me how much I hate it when my father cannot see reason, and she pointed out how much I was behaving like him." He searches my eyes. "I am sorry," he repeats in not much more than a whisper.

I am unsure I can form a suitable reply, unsure one is even required, so I merely nod.

"I am just so ..." He shakes his head. "I did not want you to see me like ... _this_." He waves a hand over his bruised, weakened body.

I tilt my head to the side. "See you how? Like a man who fought for his life to return to his home, to his family? A man strong enough to withstand the horrors you must have and live to tell of it?"

He looks at me with sadness lingering in his eyes. "I do not feel very strong at the moment," he says quietly.

"But you are."

His brow furrows. "You truly see me that way?"

I lower my head and nod once. "I do." I grasp his hand tighter, and he squeezes in return. "You are the strongest man I know." I look up at him. "And I am so happy the Gods returned you to me." The emotions I've held at bay come rushing out of me, tears spilling from my eyes and sobs ripping from my chest like a bubbling spring.

He releases my hand and widens his arms.

Needing no invitation, I crawl up and over the side of the bed and into his embrace, reveling in his mere presence. His arms wrap around me, slowly, firmly holding me to him. As he draws me closer, he hisses.

I begin to pull back. "You're still in pain."

He only holds me tighter. "And that will likely not change for quite a while. But I fear I will be in more pain if I do not have you in my arms." The desperation in his voice is enough to make me relent, and I allow him to hold me as close as he wishes.

We lie in relative silence, basking in the togetherness. Every fiber of my being wishes to squeeze him to me, to assure myself he is alive and here, but I fear I will cause him even more pain than he is already feeling. He is still so weak, so battered and bruised, so I settle for merely holding on to him.

"I prayed for you every day," I whisper. "I prayed to your Gods and to my God, and I begged them to return you to me." I breathe him in, and the smells of herbs and tinctures are almost overpowering, but I inhale deeply, assuring myself he is really here, and this is not some cruel dream.

"Thank you," he says, his voice cracking. "I constantly prayed to see you again, even if just for a moment. Some days, I think it was the only thing to sustain me."

I tilt my head back and meet his eyes. "And the Gods listened."

He smiles weakly and nods once. "They did. It seems they also answered my other prayers." The hand cupping my cheek moves to my middle, finally coming to rest over the swell of my abdomen. "Is it true?" he whispers. "Do you carry my child?"

I nod, shyly looking back to his chest, avoiding his gaze. "It is true," I whisper.

"And all is well?" he asks shakily. "You are well?"

I cover his hand with my own. "All is well," I reassure him. "I have even felt him stir. Does that please you, My Lord? My Edward?"

He gently grasps my chin, tilting my head back to meet my eyes, and my question is met with a smile that rivals the firelight in the room. "It does ... greatly." His voice is still gravelly, strained, but his excitement with the news is clear. "You have no idea how _much_ it pleases me." He places his hand at the back of my head, drawing me back to rest it against his chest, under his chin. I settle into the warmth I find there, and he holds me close. "The Gods have certainly blessed us." He kisses the top of my head.

I curl up against him, held safely in his arms, and listen to the thud of his beating heart beneath my ear. The sound is soothing to my weary soul, reassuring; it is a sound I'd thought I might never again hear. It feels almost too good to be true, as if we have been given too much, and I fear we stand to lose much as well.

"I worry we are tempting fate."

He looks down at me, a small frown on his face. "Bringing a child into the world may not be without its dangers, but I have to believe the Gods would not bring me back to you only to take you or the child away from me." He cradles my face in the warmth of his hands. "Do not worry, Isabella. Their blessings have shined favorably upon us thus far, returning me home, and I believe their blessings will continue."

"They have blessed us, have they not?" I offer a small smile.

"They most certainly have." His fingertips dance lightly across my jaw as his thumb trails against my cheekbone, his gaze intense upon me. "I know I am not the man you wed," he begins, "but I beg you allow me the chance to once again prove myself worthy of you."

"It is I who worries she is not worthy of you," I say softly.

"Why would you say that?" The intensity of his eyes shows an earnestness that is familiar. It is the same sincerity he showed me the day he proposed marriage to me in the meadow, and it warms me from the inside out. But it also reminds me of the lingering doubts caused by his refusal to see me.

"The day you asked for my hand, you told me you wished for me to one day rule by your side. And when you would not allow me to see you, I feared you no longer felt that way—that I was no longer worthy of standing beside you."

"Oh, Isabella, of course you are worthy. How can you even question that?"

"You promised me we would make decisions together—face things together—and I was not even allowed to be at your side." I sniffle, fighting back my tears. "I thought perhaps you no longer saw me the same way."

His sorrowful eyes search mine as his hand gently passes over my head, finally coming to rest on my cheek. "Of course I see you the same way. I could live a thousand lifetimes and never be able to pay penance for sending you away. Even if it was only three days, it was three days too long. I can only beg your forgiveness. It appears I am weak, not only in body, but in mind, and I could not bear the thought of you seeing me this way."

"I've already told you I do not see you as weak."

"I know." He kisses my forehead and smiles against my skin. "And I thank the Gods for that."

I take a deep breath, gathering courage to say what I am thinking. "Do not do it again," I say resolutely. "Do not push me away when you need me." I pull away and peer up at him. "I am your partner in this life. You trusted me to choose you, to choose to be your wife. Do not take away my choices. My place is beside you."

He smiles. "There is no place I'd rather you be." Again, he pulls me into his arms.

"You are wrong about one thing," I whisper.

"Wrong? About what?"

"You _are_ the man I wed."

He scoffs. "I am far from—"

I place my fingertips against his cracked lips, silencing him. His eyes widen in surprise. "You _are_ the man I wed," I stress once again. "You are strong, courageous, and as true as you were the day you asked me for my hand. Your absence has done nothing to change that."

He kisses the tips of my fingers and smiles. "I do not know what I did to earn your devotion," he whispers against them. Again, he pulls me close, wrapping me back in his arms, only this time his hand moves to cover the child resting between us. "When? When will the child be here?"

"The midwife tells me it should be early summer."

He nods once. "Good. Then he will have the warmer months to grow strong." He looks down at me. "Mother tells me she was worried for Alice's son. Arriving as winter is upon us is never good timing." He is quiet for many moments. "I can only pray Jasper survives to meet him," he says so faintly I am not sure I was meant to hear.

I allow several moments to pass while I gather my courage to ask the questions raging inside me. When I can no longer stand it, I speak.

"Can you tell me?" My question is met with silence, and I quickly try to withdraw it. I begin to pull away from him. "I am sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Shh. It is all right." He pulls me impossibly closer. "I ..." He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the top of my head. "Can we just be like this for now?" he rasps.

I swallow my tears at his obvious discomfort. "I would like nothing more."

His hold on me only tightens, as if I will float away if he does not tether himself to me, and we drift off to sleep in one another's arms.

* * *

Quiet murmurs beyond the bed curtains rouse us both, and our eyes meet. I am greeted with the warm green I so missed and a soft smile.

"Good morning," he whispers, unwilling to alert our unwanted visitors to our wakefulness.

I smile in return, mouthing my reply. "Good morning."

He kisses my forehead and tucks me back under his chin. "See to it my wife is fed," he barks at whoever has chosen to disturb us, his voice rumbling in my ear as it lies upon his chest.

His command is met with silence.

"Is there a problem?"

"Your Highness?" The timid question alerts me something is indeed amiss.

"What is it?" he impatiently asks.

"We were sent to inform you the king is requesting an audience with you."

"Of course he is," he mumbles, once again rubbing at his head. It is a sure sign he is upset. Even lying down, his shoulders slump against his bedding. With detached resignation, he finally answers them. "Tell my father I will expect him at midday."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Their feet shuffle across the rugs toward the bedchamber door, but before they reach it, Edward calls out. "And do not forget to bring a meal for my wife." His hand reflexively moves to my middle, and I smile.

"Do not forget yourself, husband," I whisper.

"And for myself," he shouts just before the door closes, the agreements of the servant the last thing we hear before it latches.

He sighs and pulls me closer. "It appears duty is calling much sooner than I would like." He kisses the side of my head.

"I do not like it, but I expected it." I look up from his chest. "Honestly, I am surprised your father has not insisted on seeing you before now."

"I imagine my mother has something to do with that." He smiles. "She was a fierce protector of yours when she came to see me. Well, of both of us." His hand cups my cheek. "She reminded me how much I needed you."

"She cares for you very much."

"She cares for you just as much."

I smile. "I feel very blessed to have found a mother in her."

The corner of his mouth turns up. "She said much the same about you—that she felt she'd found a daughter in you." His thumb runs over my cheek. "I am happy to hear you've grown close. What of my father? Has he been as welcoming?"

I hesitate, but only for a moment. "He has made sure I have everything I have needed." I sit up, fearing where this conversation might lead, and pull away from him.

"Isabella, that is not what I meant," he says softly, likely sensing my reluctance to be forthcoming.

"I know. He has been quite distraught over your absence, and—" I pause, unsure what else I should say.

"And what?" he prods.

I hesitate. At the time, the king's words and actions hurt me greatly, but I now know his true motivations. "It has taken a while for us to realize we only wanted the same thing."

"Which was what?"

I smile. "Your safe return." Knowing this may be the only chance I get to leave without furthering our conversation, I seize the opportunity. "I think I will take the time for a personal moment before they return with our meal. And I am sure Elder Afton is not far behind to check on your progress," I say as I slip from his bed. "I will return as soon as I am able." I reach as far as I can from the steps at his bedside, standing on my on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, receiving surprised silence from him. "I shall not be long."

I know there is a passageway between Edward's rooms and my own, but I do not want to linger, for fear he will ask more questions about the tense relationship between his father and myself. I quickly walk out of his bedchamber, through his sitting room, and into the corridor, hurrying back to my own rooms.

Angela is there to greet me, a smile on her face. "My Lady! Did you see him? Did he allow you to stay? How is he?"

She launches question after question, and her eagerness makes me laugh. "Yes, yes, and he is well." I walk toward the screen in the corner of my room, intent to tend to private matters. "Could you see to a fresh dress and perhaps help me brush out my hair?" I ask as I use the chamberpot. "I would like to return to him as soon as I can."

"Yes, My Lady. Would you like me to bring you something to break your fast?"

"No, Edward asked his man to bring us both something." When I get no reply, I peek my head around the screen. "What is—" My words are cut short when I lay eyes on Angela. Her smile is so wide, I fear her cheeks will begin to hurt.

"I am so happy for you. His Highness is home. He is well, and the light is finally back in your eyes."

My returning smile makes my own cheeks ache. "I am happy, too."

* * *

Once I am dressed and ready, Angela shows me the passage between my chambers and my husband's, and I return to him. He is propped up in his bed as Elder Afton inspects his slowly healing injuries. One of the servants attempts to tend to him, reaching to adjust the pillows behind him.

Judging by the scowl on his face, Edward does not like being fussed over and pushes away his hands. "Enough. I don't need you to—"

"That will be all. I can assist Elder Afton if he should need my help," I say, dismissing the man.

He bows in my direction. "Yes, Your Highness," he says, relief coloring his words.

"Ah, Your Highness. It is good to see you." The priest's kind smile earns one in return.

"You as well." I step to my husband's bedside and direct my attention to him. "The sun is barely in the sky, and you are already terrorizing the poor people who are only trying to care for you," I tease.

"If they cared at all, they would leave me in peace." His scowl is directed at the older man inspecting a wound on his forearm. "I've no wish to be doted upon."

A chuckle comes from the aging priest. "Doted upon? You call my attention and limited knowledge of healing doting?" Again, he laughs. "And if that is how you have been treating the servants, I can say with confidence you will not long be abed." He levels Edward with a sly smile. "You are still the difficult young man you always have been."

I giggle at their exchange.

"You think he is funny, wife?" He points to the man who joined us in marriage what feels like a lifetime ago. "This old man forgets I am his prince, and as so I could have him ... banished ... or worse."

I meet the twinkling eyes of Elder Afton. "Yes, I wholeheartedly agree; he is well on the road to recovery."

The priest smiles, but as Edward shifts uncomfortably, it falls. "Your Highness," he says gently, "I still need to examine your back, to be sure the poultice is working."

Edward stiffly nods in return, his worried eyes flashing to mine.

I take a breath and straighten my back, readying myself for his dismissal. "Do you wish me to leave?"

He inhales deeply and slowly breathes out through his nose before shaking his head. "No, stay." He reaches out, opening his hand, and I lace my fingers with his. I help him sit up while he is looked over.

I help them remove his shirt; Edward is stiff and slow on his own. I inhale sharply when his wounds are revealed.

The same deep gashes I saw the night he returned home are still angry and red, but they are even more distressing up close and in the light of day. The long, thin marks look painful, and they cover his back from his shoulders to nearly his waist. They are bright in contrast to the dull green and brown mixture of herbs and oils covering them.

"How are they feeling?" Elder Afton asks as he produces a warm, wet cloth to wipe away the poultice.

Edward nods once. "Better." He looks up at me. "A good night's sleep seems to have helped a great deal."

As Elder Afton wipes at Edward's back, my husband winces, the pain clear on his face. I lean close and place a kiss to his bare shoulder, though I know it does nothing to ease his pain. I smile against his skin when he turns his head to kiss my forehead.

"Then we shall continue as we have," the priest says as he wipes away the last of the poultice. "Rest, eat well, and we will apply more of the herbs after your father has been to see you. In the meantime, I would forgo your shirt until it is necessary and allow the air to get to your wounds." He turns to me. "Perhaps you could assist His Highness in bathing before more of the poultice is applied?"

My gaze flashes to the amused eyes of my husband and back to Elder Afton, my cheeks heating as I stutter my reply. "Of course. I am happy to help him with whatever he needs."

"Very good. Well, if there is nothing else?" He studies both of us, and while I shake my head, Edward opens his mouth, as if to reply, but hesitates, his eyes flashing to me and back to the priest.

Always perceptive, he must already know what it is Edward needs. "Be patient, My Lord. Listen to your body, and you will know when the time is right." He turns to me. "Your Highness, please let me know if either of you require anything. I am but a call away." He pats Edward on the leg, bows just enough for propriety's sake, and sees himself out.

"What was—"

He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. "Nothing to be concerned with." He gently tugs my hand until I move to sit beside him on the bed. "So, tell me—since no one was brave enough to be honest with me—how bad are they?"

"The wounds on your back?"

He nods. "They burn like the fiery pits of Hell each time someone touches them or puts the horrid concoction on me. They must be bad."

"They do look very ... painful. I cannot imagine how they must feel."

He inhales deeply and blows it out. "It is not pleasant." His expression softens. "But if I had to experience it again, I would endure each and every lashing, every burn, if it meant I would return to you."

I smile, yet tears gather in my eyes. "I am so glad you are home."

"As am I," he says as his face grows closer to mine. Without thought, I lean. "I would very much like to kiss my wife," he whispers, his lips just a breath away from mine.

"I would like that very much, too."

His tongue swipes out over his cracked lips just before they touch mine. This is not like the innocent kisses we had in our beginning, nor is it like the kisses of passion we have shared while lying naked in his tent. No, this is a kiss of longing fulfilled, of the sheer joy of having been reunited. It is how I imagine selfless love to feel.

* * *

**A/N: So, how are we feeling? A little better than where I left you last week? I'd love to hear your thoughts. **

**Time is running out to donate to the Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation fundraiser! Donations to the ACLU or RAICES of $10 or more by November 24 gets you a copy of the compilation that includes 90 authors! I've donated two stories, one of which is a DoMH outtake, Captive, detailing what Edward endured while in captivity. See the Facebook group, Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation or the blog batbcomp. blogspot. com for more details about where to submit your receipt. **

****!EXCITING NEWS!** If all goes as planned, you'll be getting TWO updates a week until I hit complete! It was a personal goal of mine to have this complete by the year's end. I'm working on what will be the last or next to last chapter, so I'm ramping up the posting schedule. If jayhawkbb can keep up with me, you'll see an update every Tuesday and Friday!**

**No recs this week. I've been insanely busy with reshuffling rooms in our house, including my space to read and write, so I haven't had as much down time as I usually do. Tell me what you're reading—old, new, complete or WIP—I'd love to add to my TBR list. **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	22. Chapter 21

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember all mistakes are mine.  
**

* * *

**Chapter 21**

Steam rises around us, and the light streaming through the window illuminates the translucent wisps. I swirl a cloth under the surface of the water and bring it back up and over Edward's shoulder to wash him. Many of his scars are deep, and several burns mar his chest. My husband will forever bear the Rheman sigil displayed on their banners and shields—the shape of a serpent coiled around a wide V—that his captors branded into his skin again and again. Each time I brush over an especially angry looking wound, his sharp intake of breath tells me it is causing him pain.

"I am sorry," I whisper.

He breathes deeply and exhales heavily. "Don't be."

We are both silent. The only sound in the room is that of the water splashing against the side of the copper tub.

"It is the strangest sensation," he begins. "An odd mix of pain from my wounds and absolute pleasure of having your hands on me."

"I am sorry it is causing you pain," I say softly. Rising up on my knees, I lean over the edge of the tub, my lips reaching the side of his neck to place a stolen kiss there. "But I am glad to be the one to bring you a bit of pleasure."

He sighs, the sound of contentment in his exhale. "I know I've already said this, but it was dreams of this—your touch, your presence—that got me through the days I was ..." He trails off, his words seeming to die on his tongue. He rests the back of his head against the edge of the tub, and his serene mood seems to vanish.

I peer over his shoulder and find his eyes closed. "Do you wish to tell me about it?" I ask in no more than a whisper.

Moments pass, and I begin to wonder if he will refuse me. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, a murmur in the quiet of the room. "Do you truly wish to know?"

I swallow the lump in my throat as I consider his question. Do I really want to hear of the trials he endured? The pain he suffered? I take a deep breath and strengthen my resolve. "I do, but only if you wish to tell me."

More silence passes between us as I wait for him to speak. I rise to my feet and step toward the hearth, retrieving the copper ewers of water left by the fire to warm. I busy myself with refreshing his bath, and as I pour the warmed water into the tub, I can feel his pointed gaze on me. I focus on my task and avoid meeting his stare. Resuming my position on my knees beside the tub, I pick up the cloth again.

"You were there," he finally says, and I focus on the rivulets of water running over his shoulder. "I remember looking across the field and seeing your terrified face just before the blade struck me." He reaches for my hand as I run the cloth over his shoulder once more, bringing my knuckles to his lips. "My only thought was making sure you were away and safe," he says against my skin.

From my place behind him, I cannot see his expression, but his tone is pained. "I remember. All I wanted to do was to go to you." I lean forward once again and place another kiss on his shoulder. "Running away from you was the hardest thing I have ever had to do."

"I am not sure if it was more difficult for you to leave or for me to send you away, but that day the Gods granted my only wish." He grasps my wrist, tugging lightly and pulling me forward to meet his eyes. His hand moves to cover my belly where our babe lies, and he smiles. "You and my child were kept safe from the horrors of that night and all the days to follow. I will never be able to sacrifice enough to them in my gratitude."

I smile sadly. "But _you_ were taken from _me_. I'm not sure I share the same gratitude."

He sits up straighter, bringing our faces closer together. "I would do it a thousand times over if it meant your safety," he whispers against my lips. Slow and deep he kisses me, and old feelings long put away begin to bubble to the surface. I push them away, though, for he is in no condition to act on the desires of the flesh.

Our kisses slow until we pull apart, but not completely. His hand travels to the back of my neck, holding me close while he rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. His murmured words tear at my heart. "I fought them, but there were just too many."

"I know you did." My voice cracks. "I saw you with my own eyes. I know how hard you fought."

"Just the thought of them finding you, harming you ..." His brow furrows, and his closed eyes squeeze tighter still. "It made me fight that much harder. But in the end, it was just too much, too many of them. I must have lost consciousness, because I remember waking up and not knowing where I was. My only thought, for days, was wondering if you were able to get away, if Emmett was able to get you to safety." His eyes open and bore into mine. "It wasn't until we arrived in Adwen that I knew for certain you were safe. When I was marched through the gates, the disappointment on Aro's face when you weren't beside me told me you hadn't been captured."

"Had he ordered me to be taken as well?"

He pulls away but does not release me, his firm hold moving from the back of my neck, down my arm to grasp my hand. He nods once. "He had."

"And Aro willingly shared that with you?"

Again, he nods. "Aro is many things, but able to control his anger is not one of them. He was sure to take out his displeasure on his returning soldiers when we arrived and you were not with us." He turns his head to meet my inquiring eyes. "More than a few men died when they returned to Adwen without you."

"Why—"

He squeezes my hand, silencing me. "They failed their king, Isabella, and their failure meant you were alive."

"They died because—"

"You were _alive,_" he stresses, his pointed gaze meeting mine. "I refuse to feel guilty that it cost them their lives."

I ease my hand from his and reach for the cloth once more, wringing the water from it and resuming my task of washing him. I stare distractedly at the marks and scars littering his body.

"Do you know how they were able to ambush our camp? They say Alec had a part in it," I say quietly.

"That bastard was a traitor," he says, his teeth gritted. "Apparently, he was able to be bought. Who knew he would barter the lives of his brothers for a purse of gold coins?" His breaths come faster as he speaks, his pulse racing just under the skin of his neck.

I lean in close and place a kiss there in an effort to calm him. Soon his breathing slows, and the anger burning beneath his skin calms.

"Were you ... did they ..." I stumble over my words, unsure what it is I want to know, or if I should even dare ask it.

"I was thrown into a cell when I first arrived." He chuckles humorlessly. "I'm not sure they knew what to do with me at first. I truly believe they planned to kill me—well, us—if we'd been captured together."

My hands falter, and the cloth slips from my hold into the water. It isn't until Edward grasps my hands that I know I am trembling.

"This is too much." He sits forward, intent on rising from the tub. "I should not have told you," he says, berating himself.

I shake my head and place a hand on his arm, pushing him to sit. "No, I am fine. It is just"—my wide and frightened eyes flash to his—"I'd no idea how close we both came to—"

"But we did not." He reaches up and cradles my cheek in his palm. "Don't you see? You were protected, even I was protected. The Gods saw to it you were safe, and therefore I was as well."

My gaze falls to the slow-healing marks on his chest, and my fingertips reach out to trace them. "But you weren't. Not really." I meet his eyes, and the emotion I find renders me speechless.

The corner of Edward's mouth turns up in a wistful smile, and he rubs his thumb over my cheek. "No, not in the strictest sense. But I was kept alive. I even had someone care for me between their ... abuses."

"Who?"

"Susan, your father's courtesan. She was even instrumental in my escape." He smiles sadly. "She was a good woman with a good heart. You should know that she truly loved your father, despite what you may have thought of her."

"Was?"

He exhales heavily. "I do not know for certain, but I believe she likely lost her life once I escaped."

"Because she helped you?"

"Yes. And I would not be alive, if not for her."

"Then I will be sure to say a prayer for her, for I will be forever grateful for her sacrifice." I clear my throat. "If King Aro and his men were so quick with the sword, do you know why he decided to keep you alive?"

"To barter with my father for Galon," he says plainly.

My brow furrows in confusion. "But how? Your father would never have agreed—"

"No, he wouldn't have. As I said, we were meant to be taken together, both of us were likely to be killed. Then Aro would have had his claim to Adwen, by way of Jane's marriage to Aro's son, Marcus—"

"Jane is married to Marcus? You saw her?" I ask, interrupting. "Did you see Bree as well?"

He nods. "Yes, Jane is married to Marcus, and yes, I saw them both."

"Were they well?" I ask, already knowing the answer as I watch his face fall.

"They were alive," is all he says. "I did not get to speak with them, but they were alive the last time I laid eyes on them."

"Oh," I say softly.

"As I said, Aro would have had his claim to Adwen, by way of Jane's marriage to Marcus, and he would have had your father's army at his back. He would have been a formidable opponent, even to Galon's army."

"My father's army?" I ask, trepidation coloring my tone.

He gives me a sad smile. "Yes, your father's army. Rhema's attack was swift and unexpected. By the time Charles realized his city was under attack, he was cornered in the castle. Aro made his demands, and your father ... Isabella, I believe he thought Aro to be a man of his word, so he agreed to Aro's terms. He was willing to sign a contract with Aro similar to the one he signed with me, marrying Jane to Marcus and having an equally binding agreement for the throne of Adwen on your father's passing. Aro likely has plans to marry Bree to an ally as well. Perhaps even another member of his house."

"And if either of them produces a son, Rhema has a claim to Adwen?"

"Well," he begins, "it would have given Aro a legitimate claim to Adwen once Jane bore Marcus a son. When I arrived without you by my side, though, the agreement they made was irrelevant, because any child you bore me would have the same claim. Aro made a show of publicly denouncing your father, telling the crowd he'd gone back on his word. He saw no need to keep your father alive."

"How—" I clear my throat, willing away my tears. "How were they able to attack? You left a garrison in place, yes? Left behind your own men to protect them, in addition to my father's army? How was it so easy for them to infiltrate the castle?"

Heaving a heavy sigh, he reaches for my hand. "When we departed Adwen, I had a feeling there would be trouble for the men I left behind. And there was. The attack by Rhema was coordinated with an attack from within the castle walls." He watches me as realization dawns on my face.

"Within? You mean—"

"Many of your father's men betrayed him. And the man leading the charge was Sir Jacob Black."

"Jacob betrayed my father?" I ask in disbelief.

Edward nods in response. "Jacob and those loyal to him initially turned on the men I left behind, killing all of them as they guarded the city. Then it was really nothing more than opening the gates and allowing the Rheman army to march in."

"But I don't understand. What did Jacob have to gain by betraying my father—his own king—a man he swore an oath to protect? Our people were already saved from their fate. Why would they help Rhema to take over the city? It makes no sense." With each word, my voice has risen, and my confusion only adds to my distress.

"Shh, I will tell you anything you wish to know, but you must calm yourself, Isabella. I will not continue if it causes you any distress." Again, his hand moves over our child.

I take deep breaths, and my anxiety begins to wane. "I am calm."

Edward eyes me speculatively.

"I am." I swallow, willing my voice to remain even. "Tell me ... please."

"Even though I was in a cell in the bowels of Broadcove Castle, I heard guards talk, other prisoners—those loyal to your father—talk about what they had seen and heard. Rhema was not invited into Adwen by your father. I learned early on that it was Jacob who sent a messenger to Rhema the night our betrothal was announced. He was incensed that Charles would marry you to a Galon prince before Jane, ruining his chance at your hand, and, therefore, his chance to take the throne."

My brow furrows in confusion once again. "But he was a knight, not a lord or prince, or anyone with a title worthy of the throne. How did he believe he could have a claim to it?"

"The clause allowing any of his daughters with a firstborn son to claim Adwen for their husband's kingdom was apparently enough to inspire thoughts of treason."

"But the clause was written in a contract between our _kingdoms_, not as law of Adwen. It would not have seen him on the throne. And even if it did, could he not just marry Bree in my place? I do not understand."

"Nor does it make much sense to me. He was angry and bitter, and angry, bitter men make rash, illogical decisions. I believe he has been so focused on _you _he dismissed the mere possibility of taking Bree as a wife. Even as he took part in my torment, he taunted me with threats of taking you as his after he'd killed me. Jacob's decision to go to Aro was enough for him to gain favor, earning him a place in Aro's army and promises of the spoils of seizing Adwen and Galon when the time came."

"Are they still a threat? Are they coming here?" I ask, panic bubbling up inside me.

He tightly grasps my hands. "Shh. Isabella, I—"

"What if they come here? With my father's army, they could—"

"Stop!" His voice rises over mine. "Please, stop," he says softly. "Yes, if I were in Aro's place, I would plan an attack. But I also wouldn't send my men into the mountains in the coldest days of winter. We have the advantage of time. Aro will need time to plan, to organize, and it would mean the death of half his army if he were foolish enough to send them to Galon now."

He pauses, and a wide smile lights his face. "It is a wonder the weather broke long enough for us to make the trek over the mountain range." He strokes my cheek and cups it in his warm hand. "I suspect you had something to do with that?"

"If you mean praying for hours each day for you to return to me, then yes, I suppose the Gods may have taken pity on me and held back the cold and snow." I cannot help but smile at the thought. I would like to think my prayers made a difference.

The first genuinely happy smile graces his face, so wide it lights his eyes. "I have missed that."

"What have you missed?"

"Your ... spark. Your witty, sharp tongue. It's been a long while since I've had the pleasure of witnessing it."

"And how do you know I do not jest? Perhaps the Gods truly did hold back the weather to assure your safe passage home."

The corner of his mouth rises higher. "Perhaps. If anyone could convince the Gods to do anything they did not plan to do, it would be you."

I roll my eyes and smile.

"What? Do you think _I_ jest? I assure you, I do not." His smile softens, and his tone lowers. "You have a pure heart, Isabella. The Gods must recognize it. And I know it as surely as I know my own name—your prayers carried me home."

I close my eyes and rest my forehead to his. "It does not matter how it happened. I am only grateful that it did."

"As am I."

We sit in silence, absorbing everything that has been said. The only sounds in the room are those of our even breaths and the crack and hiss of the fire.

"You should probably get out of the bath," I whisper. "I do not wish for you to become ill. I fear it would be too much for your body to overcome."

He chuckles, a mirthful sound I've longed to hear. "What? Do you think me weak? Did you not just this night extol me with tales of my strength?"

I pull back and look him in the eyes with absolute certainty and seriousness. "And I stand by my words. You are the strongest man I know, Edward Cullen. You've survived things I cannot even imagine. I will tell anyone who will listen. Our son or daughter and those to follow—everyone will know how hard you fought to return to us."

He nods but says nothing.

A sharp and forceful wind blows against the window, rattling the shutters and allowing in a chilled draft.

Edward visibly shudders. "I believe it may be a good idea to get out. Warming by the fire sounds like an exquisite idea."

I nod and rise to my feet, extending a hand to steady him as he stands. The sight of him, thin and pale from weeks of captivity, still tugs at my heart, especially now that I know what he endured. But I did not lie when I told him I believed him to be the strongest man I know. Underneath the scars and lingering bruises, I see the kind of strength that can only come from the soul of a warrior. The kind of strength that matters—not the physical, not the brawn some men use to do the work of an ox. No, Edward possesses inner strength that is only tested when the body and mind are subjected to trial.

As he lifts one foot from the water and steps over the edge of the tub, I offer both hands for him to grasp. I look up at him. "Steady."

He nods once and breathes deeply, gathering what strength he has.

I look down and watch as he lifts his other foot from the tub and places it on the floor. I swallow hard at the sight of his mangled foot. He must notice my reaction.

"I know. It's quite hideous, is it not?" he asks, his tone a poor attempt at making light of his missing toe.

I take a deep breath and exhale before looking up at him. "If that is all they took from you, I should say we are blessed. You've returned to me, to us, and I do not care one whit about a missing stub of useless flesh."

He leans down and kisses me chastely. "Thank you," he whispers.

As he pulls away, I feel him sway in my grasp. "I believe I am ready to rest for a bit," he says with a strained chuckle.

I reach past him to grasp a thick linen that has been warming by the fire, pressing it gently against his body to soak up the water trailing down his skin. Once he is dry enough, I reach for a blanket, warmed the same way, and wrap it around his shoulders.

Once settled in the chair before the fire, Edward closes his eyes to rest. The whole ordeal of bathing has been taxing on him. I can see it in the tiredness on his face. I leave him to rest while I clean up the remnants of his bath, emptying the water into the ewers and mopping up the drips that litter the floor.

I call for the servants to retrieve the ewers and the tub, all of it quietly removed before Edward opens his eyes. As the last one steps toward the door, he reminds me that His Majesty is expecting to call within the next hour. I thank him and see him out, closing the door behind him.

A groan and shifting of the blanket return my attention to the sleeping man in the chair. I return to his side and wait for him to fully wake.

"You stayed." His voice is low, rough from his brief sleep.

"Of course I stayed. Where else would I have gone?"

He smiles, exhaustion still clear on his face. I know he needs more rest, but it will have to wait.

"Your father is still expecting an audience with you."

He nods slowly as he turns his head to stare into the fire. "I have not forgotten." He looks back to me. "You know you will not be able to stay, don't you? He would probably not be very pleased with me if he knew I've told you about my ordeal before I've told him."

"I thought as much." I offer a reassuring smile. "I do not plan to announce it to anyone, so please know your secrets are safe with me."

"I know," he says softly. "I have never doubted that."

We work silently to dress him in loose-fitting clothing, though everything of his is now loose-fitting. We both notice, but neither of us says anything. When the final lace is tied and his hair is brushed, I once again offer my hand to help him to the bed.

"No, I think I would like to remain in the chair."

"But won't you be more comfortable in the bed? Surely, you would want to rest while you speak with your father."

He shakes his head. "No, I do not want to appear at all weak to him."

I open my mouth to refute his words, but he silences me.

"Please, Isabella. This is important to me. I cannot give my father any reason to think I cannot return to the man I once was. It may take some time, but I know I can regain my strength and once again fight for my father." He reaches out a hand for me to take, and I do. "Please," he reiterates.

I nod once.

"Thank you."

Before I can reply, a knock sounds on the bedchamber door, signaling the king's arrival. He is preceded by his herald and followed by several of his advisors, Emmett, Michael, and Peter among them.

I curtsy. "Your Majesty."

"Isabella." The king acknowledges me with a slight nod.

"If there is nothing else, My Lord, I will return when you are finished speaking with your father," I say to my husband.

"Thank you, Your Highness," he says with a slightly amused grin.

I see myself from the room and walk straight to the chantry to pray. I have many things for which to be thankful.

It feels like hours pass. Elder Afton gently interrupts my prayers, reminding me to stop and eat, so I find my way to the kitchens to search out a small repast. Those who work in the kitchens are quite familiar with my presence there at odd times. Once I have had enough to satiate me until it is time to share a meal with Edward, I return to the chantry. When I walk through the doors, though, I am met with the concerned gaze of the priest.

"What is it?" I ask, panicked, worried that something has happened to Edward in my absence.

"Nothing, Your Highness. I am merely a messenger. Your husband has sent for you. He is requesting your presence."

"Oh." I sigh in relief. "Is that all? The expression on your face had me worried there was something wrong."

He smiles. "No, child. Go to your husband. I am sure he just misses your company."

Something in his tone belies his words, but I nod, turning on my heel and returning to my husband's chambers.

When I reach the door, I hear a loud crash, followed by my husband's angry voice. It is too low to understand his words, but the tone alone has me rushing into his bedchamber.

Pushing my way inside, I am met with the concerned eyes of Emmett as he stands next to Edward's chair, a hand on his cousin's shoulder, attempting to calm him.

"Edward, you should—"

"Leave us, Emmett."

"I do not think—"

"I said leave us!"

Emmett looks to me and back to his cousin and heaves a heavy sigh. "Very well." He looks back down at Edward. "Please remember what I told you."

Edward's gaunt jaw is tight as he nods once in acknowledgment, but he says nothing.

Emmett steps away from his cousin and walks toward me, stopping just before he passes. "Give him a moment. And please come find me if you need me."

"I will," I whisper, suddenly fearful of why I was summoned.

Emmett leaves, and the click of the door echoes in the silence left behind.

* * *

**A/N: Just when we thought they were getting back on track ... What do you think the issue is? Why is Edward so upset? I'd love to hear your thoughts. **

**I actually have recs for you this week! **

**A new WIP by the lovely Fyrebyrd was just posted. Let us Snow is a holiday inspired drabble that promises daily weekday updates until Christmas. Summary: A "25 weekdays of Christmas" drabble gift to my readers! Well-endowed Edward and broken-hearted Bella. AH. HEA.**

**And a one shot caught my attention recently. Solitaire by Dustybritches01. Summary: She's like a solitaire in the finest setting. Day after day, she stands alone, brilliant and multifaceted and she has chosen me; my life, to adorn.**

**You only have until this Sunday, November 24th to donate to the Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation fundraiser to receive the Captive outtake! See the Facebook group or their blog, batbcomp. blogspot. com. for more details. **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	23. Chapter 22

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 22**

My mouth opens and closes several times, but as I watch Edward stare into the flames, a voice inside my head implores me to remain silent.

I listen.

When he finally turns to look at me, the look on his face is one I've never seen directed at me.

The fire burning in his eyes heats my skin, and my heart begins to race. His gaze roams over me, lingering on my small belly, and drifts up to mine. Out of instinct, my hands drop, protectively covering my child. When he opens his mouth to speak, the ire in his words shakes me to my core.

"Would you care to explain what in all the Gods' names you were thinking, running off into the dark of night—in a storm, mind you—thinking you could rescue me?"

"I ..." My words lodge in my throat, and in an instant, I burst into tears. My hands move to cover my face, hiding my shame as wracking sobs make my chest tight. The man before me suffered so much, endured so much, at another's hand to return home. He showed courage beyond anyone's imagination. But in my desperation, I believed myself to be courageous—that I could run off to be his savior.

If I thought I felt ashamed of my actions when Emmett dragged me back to Masenthorne Castle, it was nothing compared to how I now feel.

"Isabella?"

"I am so very sorry. I do not know what I was thinking. If I would have been thinking clearly, I would never have done it." I fall to my knees at his feet. "I beseech you, husband, please forgive me. I'd no idea I was carrying your child. If I'd have known, I—"

"Shh," he says, his hands reaching out to cradle my face. "Shh. Please stop crying. I shouldn't have yelled, but I ..." He grits his teeth and takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. "I am so angry right now, Isabella."

"I know. And you've every right to be angry. I did a foolish, reckless thing. I put my life in danger, our child's life in danger, and I regret it every day. I only pray you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. I close my eyes, reveling in his tenderness. Even furious, he shows how much he cares for me. "You're forgiven ... if you promise to never again do such a reckless thing," he whispers against my skin. He pulls away, and I open my eyes to meet his. "You mean too much to me. It would hurt me to lose you," he admits.

"That is something I know all too well," I reply softly. "And I promise to never put myself in danger like that again."

We sit in silence for a long while, and eventually, I lay my head on his lap and close my eyes. His hand moves to stroke my hair, and I quickly fall asleep, the overwhelming emotions of this day finally catching up to me.

Murmured voices wake me a short time later, and I open my eyes to find the smiling face of the queen looking down on us.

"Oh! Your Majesty!" I nearly tumble as I quickly rise to my feet.

"Isabella, please, do not trouble yourself. You looked so comfortable. I am sorry if my presence woke you."

I discreetly wipe at the corner of my mouth, making sure I'm presentable. "No, it is no trouble." I smile to reassure her. "Besides, I should not be sleeping in the middle of the day."

"I remember when I carried my children. I could lie down and sleep at a moment's notice. Some days it was difficult to keep my eyes open."

"Yes, I have had many days like that, but it seems to be lessening as time passes." I look down at Edward, seated in his chair, and he is wearing a smile. "What is it?" I ask him.

He looks between his mother and me. "I am just admiring the women in my life getting along so well. It makes me very happy, that is all."

My cheeks warm, and I look away, suddenly embarrassed by the attention.

"It would seem I interrupted a private moment, and I offer my apologies."

"No, Your Maj—"

"Isabella?"

I smile. "I am sorry. No, _Mother_, there is no need to apologize. We've much to do, and it would not serve me to sleep through the rest of the day."

She smiles kindly, her gaze shifting between her son and me. "Then I will not overstay my welcome. I only came to tell you of the plans." Her eyes shift to her son. "Your father has called for a feast to celebrate your return."

"A feast?" Edward questions. "With his daughter's husband still knocking on death's door, he wishes to celebrate?"

She folds her hands in front of her and sighs. "I've told him it may be better to wait, but he is insistent. And we both know, whatever your father asks, your father receives."

"When?" I ask. "Surely he wishes to wait until Jasper is well enough to attend?"

"He wishes to hold it in a month's time." She turns back to Edward. "That will be long enough for you to gain back some of your strength. Your father believes it will give the people a reason to put their confidence in you and your men. I can only hope that in a month your cousin will be able to attend."

He nods once. "I understand."

"Very well," she says, straightening her back. "I shall leave you, then. I only wanted to share your father's wishes with you." She begins to walk toward the door, but I stop her.

"Mother?" She turns to me. "How is Jasper? I've not been able to inquire about him since you and I last spoke."

She smiles sadly. "He is awake." She takes a deep breath. "And in truth, I believe he wishes he were not," she says softly before turning and walking from the room.

When I look back to my husband, he is staring straight ahead into the flames. "Edward?"

"Alice is waiting at her husband's bedside, wondering if he will ever recover." His voice is a low rumble in the quiet of the room. He looks up at me. "She must hate me."

I lower myself back to my knees and take his hands. "She does not."

"How can you know that?"

"Because every one of the men who marches beside you knows of the risks, and the women they leave behind do as well. I for one will forever be grateful for all of their sacrifices. I think even your sister would agree that those who gave their lives, those who gave so much of themselves, their sacrifices were worth it to bring you home. I will never be able to show enough gratitude to Jasper or any of the other men who risked their lives to save yours. I will spend the rest of my life doing what I can to repay him, repay all of them, but I fear I will never be able to." I squeeze his hands. "But perhaps the greatest repayment to your sister, to your cousin, is to grow stronger every day. Show him his sacrifice was not for nothing. Be the leader your people need and lead your men into battle to fight against the men who want to see harm befall us."

He smiles. "You have changed in the months I've been away."

"I have?" I ask, surprised.

He nods. "You have. The girl I left was intelligent and witty, self-sacrificing, even. But the woman I have returned to is so much stronger than that girl." He brings my knuckles to his lips. "It will be an honor to have you by my side."

* * *

I finish placing the covering cloths over the poultice, smoothing them over Edward's back so he might rest more comfortably, and help him into a loose-fitting shirt. Edward turns and lies back into the bedding and his eyes close.

"Do you wish me to leave?" I ask softly.

His eyes open and his brow furrows. "Why would I wish you to leave?"

"I thought you may want some privacy. After all, we've spent the entire day in one another's company. Perhaps you've grown tired of me and wish for some time to yourself."

"You must not realize last night was the best night's sleep I've had in months." He holds out a hand to me, inviting me to his bed. "Come now. I'm growing impatient, and I wish to sleep."

I laugh lightly. "If I'm to join you, I need to change into my sleeping shift, Edward."

Although weary, his gaze is full of mischief. "Why wear one at all?"

My eyes widen and my mouth opens in surprise. I have forgotten how forthright he can be. In truth, though, I have missed it. But as I look closer, I can see just how very tired he is. His expression may be mischievous, but I can see the few events of the day have taken a toll on him.

"What? I've seen you out of your shift, Isabella." His eyes close as his head tilts back, his tired smile widening. "Perhaps it would help me feel better to hold your warm, bare body in my arms all night."

I smile at his sudden playfulness. "Oh, would it?"

He nods, his grin still in place. "I believe it would."

I swallow down my nerves, reminding myself he is right; he has seen me in nothing. But in the months we have spent apart, my body has changed. Where I was once flat and smooth, I am now round and full.

His hand hangs in midair, and he notices my hesitation. His eyes open. "What is it? You slept in my bed just last night. What has changed from then till now?"

"Firstly, I fell asleep wearing my dress." I lower my eyes and look down at my swollen abdomen. "But it's more than that. I'm different," I whisper.

"Different from just last night?"

I shake my head. "No, different from the last time you saw me in less than my shift."

"And you grow more beautiful with every passing moment."

My head pops up, and I meet his earnest gaze.

"Please, I am tired, and I wish to sleep, Isabella. If you're truly uncomfortable removing your dress in my presence, leave it on for all I care. But I do want you to stay. I was being absolutely truthful when I said last night was the best sleep I've had in months."

I nod once and step back from the bed. "I just need a moment," I say quietly. "I will need Angela's help with the laces."

I turn to leave through the passage, and the clearing of his throat precedes his calling out to me.

"May I help you?" His voice is rough, deep, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

"If you do not mind," I reply, looking back at him over my shoulder. I walk slowly back to his side as he moves to sit up in his bed, moving his legs to sit on the edge of the mattress.

I turn my back to him and gather my hair over my shoulder. His roughened fingers move softly along the top edge of my dress, his touch causing gooseflesh to break out on my skin.

"It has been a long time since I've had the pleasure of loosening your laces," he says as his fingertips brush across my skin, his voice a low rumble. He trails a single finger up the back of my neck and into my hair, only to move it slowly back down, coming to rest on the topmost lace in my dress. "I'd forgotten how soft you were right here." He leans forward, and the warmth of his ghosting breath blows across my skin just before he places a soft kiss at the base of my neck. "I only regret I am not yet able to enjoy you the way I once did."

My heart races, and my skin warms at his words. "Soon," I whisper.

"Soon," he repeats.

With slow and careful movements, he pulls loose the laces at my back, and with shaky hands, I untie the ones at my front. The woolen fabric begins to loosen at my shoulders.

"I should be able to step out of it," I say quietly.

His hands leave me, and I immediately feel the loss of his touch. I push the relaxed fabric over my shoulders and pull it down—past my breasts and over the swell of my belly, past my hips—allowing it to fall to the floor. I step out of it, and I am left standing in only my chemise.

I take a deep breath and blow it out before pulling the ties holding together my shift. With little effort, it slips over my shoulders and pools at my feet.

My heart pounds in my chest as I turn around. I do not know what I expect to see when I face my husband, but it surely isn't his piercing eyes staring straight into mine.

"So beautiful," he says so softly I almost do not hear him.

His gaze travels over my form, and I feel the overwhelming urge to cover myself, but he once told me to never do that. So, I stand and abide the several moments of his scrutinizing gaze.

"Come," he finally says, his voice rough. He reaches out a hand to me. "It has been a long day, and we both need our rest."

I do as he asks and allow him to help me climb up into the bed, and he immediately pulls me into his arms. Instead of being met with the wandering hands I expect, he merely holds me. The warmth of his embrace spreads through me, and just before I fall asleep, he slips a hand down to cover the child that rests between us.

* * *

Each day that passes brings Edward more strength. His wounds begin to heal and fade, and we stop applying the horrid smelling poultice. After another week of rest, Elder Afton and the healer agree Edward is well enough to leave his bedchamber. It leads to many days spent in his sitting room.

Edward plays a game—a patterned board with ornately carved pieces that move from one side to the other—while I concentrate on stitching small dresses for our child. It is in the quiet moments when he believes no one to be looking when I study him.

The color is beginning to return to his cheeks, and with each meal, it seems, his once severely gaunt face fills in. He grows healthier and stronger each day.

King Carlisle and his advisors make daily visits, and I excuse myself each time. I know there is much to discuss, to plan, regarding the upcoming battle that is looming in the not too distant future, and there is much strategizing that needs to take place.

I know better than to ask to be present.

"Has he decided if you are to wait here or if you will march on Adwen?" I ask. We sit before the fire, quietly discussing what the king shared with him just this afternoon, as we do nearly every day.

"I am of the opinion it is best to allow them to come to us. It gives us several advantages. First, this is our land. Our men are familiar with it. Even the visiting armies who have agreed to help us know this land better than the Rheman army."

"So, the others have chosen to stay and fight with you?"

"They have. With them, we will better match Rhema's numbers. And given the advantages of fighting at home, we may sway the odds in our favor. It also makes sense to allow them to travel to us. They will use resources to reach us, resources they need, given the state of Adwen when we left there. They cannot possibly have much in the way of supplies. Especially after winter. And that is another advantage. Them coming to us means they will wait until winter passes to make the journey over the mountains. It gives us more time. Time to plan, time to grow stronger and train more soldiers. It is time we need. I am also hoping with time I will have my cousin back in the ranks."

"But he will never be able to fight beside you again," I say softly.

"No, he will not. But he has one of the sharpest minds I have ever known, and his knowledge and strategy will be invaluable in battle."

News came just days ago that Jasper's sword arm is practically useless, and if he heals, he will also walk with a limp. Both his arm and his leg were severely injured in his fight to rescue Edward. The fact that he has survived the infection that set in on their journey home is a miracle.

I am not sure Jasper feels the same.

Winter rages outside. The mild days we had when Edward and his men returned are long gone. Weeks have passed, and my husband is beginning to resemble the man he was so many months ago. Regular meals, rest, and quiet peace all seem to be making a marked improvement on him. With daily walks and occasional sparring with Emmett, he is gaining back some of the strength he lost during his time away.

I continue to sleep in his bed each night, held tightly in his arms, but we have yet to come together as man and wife since his return. I try to tell myself it is not me, that he is still healing, still regaining his strength, but doubts linger. It is not as if he is spending his time with another woman, or he even has the fortitude to bed another in his current state, as we spend nearly all our time together. But still, I worry.

Today we are walking through the corridors of the castle at a slow and leisurely pace. Side by side, we stop every now and again to admire some tapestry or painting, Edward doing his best to tell me of its history. A particularly vibrant canvas grabs my attention as we pass it.

"That is simply beautiful," I say as I stare up at it. Vibrant shades of purple and yellow color a field of green under a blue sky. "It reminds me of—"

"The meadow where I asked you to be my bride. Yes, I know." He points to the painting. "It was the memory of this that struck me when we passed by that patch of land on our journey to Adwen. It was as if the Gods were trying to tell me my fate lay ahead of me."

I turn to him with a rueful smile on my face. "And what a fate it has been, has it not? If not for your journey to Adwen, you would never—"

He takes my hand and brings it to his lips, silencing me. "I would never have met you, and that simply is not an option."

I smile and lower my gaze to our path as we begin our slow trek back to his quarters.

When we reach the corridor leading to our chambers, King Carlisle is walking in our direction, heading for Edward's door.

"Father?" my husband calls out, alerting the king to our presence.

"Oh, Edward. I was just coming to see you." He looks to me and then back to his son. "Perhaps we could have a word in private."

"Yes, of course." He turns to me. "Isabella, I—"

"I will wait in my rooms until you are ready to see me." I turn to the king and give a small curtsy, excusing myself.

Hours seem to pass, and I begin to worry. I ask Angela to see if Edward is still speaking with his father.

"The servants say he has been sitting and staring into the fire since his father left," Angela says.

"And when did he leave?"

"Quite some time ago, My Lady."

What was mild concern changes to worry as I wonder what Carlisle could have said to so obviously upset Edward. No longer able to endure the waiting, I go through the passage between our chambers.

When I reach Edward's bedchamber, he is not there, so I step lightly toward his sitting room. He is seated before the fire, just as Angela said he would be. His expression is contemplative, his brow furrowed.

"Edward?" I whisper, anxious for him to speak, but also not eager to disturb him.

"Hmm," he hums, not turning his gaze from the flames.

"Is everything well? Did your father have news? Is Jasper well?"

"He is well," he replies, his voice gruff. "And my father needed to discuss some concerns he has."

I step closer to his side. "Do you wish to discuss it with me?" I ask carefully.

He reaches out a hand to me, and I gladly take it.

He pulls me into his lap and holds me in his arms. "I want to, but I also do not wish to upset you." He places a kiss to my temple and says nothing more.

His reluctance to tell me is obvious, and it is troubling. He has shared so much with me in recent weeks.

"Should I be concerned?" I ask warily.

"No, I do not believe so."

"Then why do you believe it is something that would upset me?"

He turns his head, and his eyes meet mine. The sharp green that usually greets me is cloudy—full of emotions I do not recognize. The stormy look in his eyes and his hesitance to tell me causes a knot to form in my stomach. He inhales a breath, and when he speaks, I almost wish he had not.

"My father seems to be of the opinion that our union may not be what our kingdom needs."

* * *

**A/N: Aaahh! Another 'sort of' cliffie! Should I be taking cover? Lol. So, I'd say a fair number of you don't care much for Carlisle. ;) I'd love to hear your thoughts. **

**No recs this week. I'm in crazy mom mode getting my house ready for company later this week. To those of you who celebrate it, I wish you a happy Thanksgiving. And just a heads up ... Friday's update may be later in the day. The Sunshine crew goes Black Friday shopping, so all I can say is the next chapter will post on Friday, I just don't know **_**when**_** on Friday. ;) **

**The deadline has been extended until this Saturday, November 30th to donate to the Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation fundraiser, including the EPOV DoMH Captive and Duplicity outtakes! See the Facebook group or their blog, batbcomp. blogspot. com. for more details. **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	24. Chapter 23

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember all mistakes are mine.**

_Previously ..._

_He turns his head, and his eyes meet mine. The sharp green that usually greets me is cloudy—full of emotions I do not recognize. The stormy look in his eyes and his hesitance to tell me causes a knot to form in my stomach. He inhales a breath, and when he speaks, I almost wish he had not._

_"My father seems to be of the opinion that our union may not be what our kingdom needs."_

* * *

**Chapter 23**

His words cut through me, and I gasp. "Surely he does not mean he wishes for you to take another wife."

"Shh. Calm yourself. No, he did not say the words, but he implied as much."

"Implied in what way?" I ask with narrowed eyes.

His jaw tightens and he presses his lips tightly together as he looks down at me. "He is concerned that when the time comes, our people will not support us, that they will think the troubles we face are because of our marriage." He opens his mouth to say more but hesitates.

"What is it?" I ask cautiously.

"I honestly think if you were not carrying my child, he may have ordered me to annul our marriage and seek out the hand of another."

I gasp, and my hands move to cover over our child. "How could he—"

His finger moves over my lips and silences me before his warm hand covers mine. "It is of no concern."

"How can you say it is of no concern? He wishes for you to marry another?"

"He did not say that, Isabella. I merely suggested that is how he _may_ feel. It does not make it so."

"But why? Why would he feel that way?"

He looks down at me, and his expression is unreadable. "In truth, any gains we would have realized from a union with Adwen are lost with the death of your father and Rhema's seizure of their lands. Our marriage is no longer ... beneficial to my father. We've gained nothing." He places a hand over our child. "But all of that is irrelevant. You carry my child, possibly my son and heir to the throne. He has no reason to ask me to cast you aside."

"I've always known he had little regard for me, but I had no idea he felt so strongly."

"What do you mean, little regard? Has he been unkind to you, Isabella?"

I think carefully about what I am to say, aware of the impact of my words. I would not want to cause any undue division between Edward and his father.

"Not intentionally, I do not think. It was his accusation of me being a bad omen for his men that sent me out in my feeble attempt to rescue you, though."

"He called you a bad omen? _My father _is the one who ran you off?" Edward moves as if to stand and run to confront his father, but I grasp his shoulders, holding him in place.

"Stop. Yes, he said I was perhaps a bad omen and that I was barren, and several other insulting things, but he also came to me to apologize. We came to ... a truce of sorts, an understanding. But perhaps he still feels I am not good for you or your people," I say softly as I lay my head back on his shoulder.

"You must know, I do not feel the way he does. I would never think of ending our marriage, Isabella, merely for political gain. When I asked for your hand, it was for more than what I could gain for my king with your lands." He looks down into my eyes. "It was always you."

"Thank you," I whisper as his lips descend on mine.

It is a slow and languid kiss, one that ignites the dormant embers I've been so careful to keep contained. His hands begin to roam, and my own move to his hair, the silky strands gliding through my fingers. Before we can get too carried away, though, he pulls back, holding his forehead to mine.

"I must apologize. I seem to have forgotten myself there for a moment."

"I have forgotten myself as well," I say breathlessly.

He clears his throat and adjusts me on his lap, pulling me against his chest. "Father also mentioned the celebration again. I'd no idea it is in just two days."

I look up at him, surprised. "Two days? How did we not know?"

"We've been tucked away, sequestered from the preparations. I'd asked that we not be disturbed, and apparently, they took my words to heart."

"But so soon," I say quietly. "I am surprised Angela has not sought me out to fit me with a gown or some other frivolity."

He chuckles, the sound deep as I rest my ear against his chest. "Yes, I remember your ... distaste for fine gowns. I think I recall something about a man's obsession with dresses and stable boys."

I scowl, and he kisses my temple.

"Come now, your sharp wit is what first caught my attention."

"Yes, but it was incredibly improper. I don't believe I have ever felt more embarrassed than when I realized you heard me."

He laughs. "Be that as it may, you were stunning that night." He lifts my chin up to look into my eyes. "I will forever remember it fondly." He places a kiss on my lips. "But as for this particular celebration, my father wanted to make sure I would be ready to appear before our people." His eyes search mine. "It is important to him that we appear strong, ready to fight, so I will be spending more of my time training with Emmett."

I nod. "I was expecting as much. I know there is still much to do to prepare to be ready for ... spring."

We exchange a look, both of us knowing my reference to the upcoming battle with Rhema is painful to think on.

"I also want you to prepare yourself for me spending less time in my chambers. Aside from my time with Emmett, I will need the next several days to gather my thoughts."

"Gather your thoughts?" I ask.

His gaze is earnest, his eyes still clouded with worry as he stares up at me. "It is time to prepare myself to lead my men into war, Isabella. And making an appearance at the feast is the first step in showing them I am able to do it. It is time for me to focus on what is yet to come."

* * *

In the two days leading up to the feast, the entire castle is in a flurry of activity. Edward spends nearly every waking moment with Emmett or visiting with Jasper. I do not know what they speak about, but Edward returns to his chambers each night with a contemplative look on his face.

I do all I can to avoid the king. Between my time spent in the chantry, offering prayers for our triumph over the Rheman army, and working to alter my gown for the celebration, it is not difficult. I am in no hurry to confront him over his opinion of me. I fear it would only make the strained atmosphere that has settled over Masenthorne worsen.

Edward has only seen his father when the king sends for him, and the tension between them is obvious to everyone.

Edward and I find time through the day to see one another, even if only briefly. Stolen kisses and whispered words are exchanged in passing, and while he has not taken me as a husband has a right to take his wife, we still spend each night in one another's arms.

I do not ask him why; I can see the exhaustion on his face after each training session with his cousin. But along with his exhaustion, I can also see his strength has returned. The time he has spent practicing his swordsmanship has served him well.

His stamina has improved, and before my eyes, his body again resembles what it was months ago. More importantly, the confidence and commanding presence he's always had has returned.

I can only hope that when we are presented to our guests at the feast, he is able to inspire their confidence in him and his ability to lead.

* * *

When the day of the feast arrives, everyone in the castle is busy, distracted with their tasks, preparing Masenthorne to receive so many guests. The different smells—baking breads, roasted meats, and sweets of all kinds—have been wafting through the halls since the sun rose. The servants are so busy going to and fro, they have spared me little more than a greeting as I pass any of them. Even Angela has been busy preparing for tonight.

I've taken advantage of the rare moment of solitude and slipped away to wander the courtyard. I breathe in the fresh air and enjoy the serenity of being outdoors. It brings to mind the many days I spent traveling the road from Adwen to Galon with Edward. There were no duties to pull us away from one another, nowhere to be except the road ahead, and no known dangers on the horizon. We learned so much about each other during that short time. The time we had together leading up to the attack on our camp may have been brief, but it is a time I will always cherish.

All too soon, Angela collects me, and we retreat to my chambers to ready me for the feast celebrating not only our nuptials, but also Edward's return.

I am dressed in the gown I wore when I wed Edward, albeit altered to fit my burgeoning form. My hair, too, is styled in much the same way it was on my wedding day. Nerves assault my belly as I study my reflection. While my condition has been the topic of rumors in the castle, it has not been confirmed.

Tonight, that will change.

I've been told Edward will share the news with our guests in an effort to bolster the people's faith in him and his army. Having an heir on the way can only strengthen his cause. But meeting so many people from outlying villages and territories and being on display make me uneasy.

Just as my friend places my jeweled circlet on my head, Edward steps from the shadows of my room, startling both Angela and me.

"Edward!" My hand flies to my chest to calm my racing heart, but when I take a moment to actually look at him, I'm surprised. "Edward?"

I'm struck speechless at the sight of him. Gone is the beard I have come to know, and in its place, a smooth face with chiseled features, not unlike some of the statues I have seen that have been cut from marble and stone.

"What it is it, My Lady?"

"Your ..." I reach toward him, as if to touch him, but pull back.

"Do you not like it?" he asks as he rubs his cheeks.

"No, I do. I am just shocked. It is quite a change."

"That it is. My mother believes I appear more ... _royal_ with a clean face. Under the circumstances, I thought it best to make her happy. And I believe keeping the women in my life happy can only bode well for me." He winks.

"It ... it suits you," I say softly.

"I am glad you think so. And I do apologize for the intrusion, but I could stay away no longer." He steps to my side and places a kiss to the top of my head.

I make eye contact with my friend in the looking glass and dismiss her. "Thank you, Angela," I say. I watch as she excuses herself from the room. Once my chamber door closes, I turn my attention back to my reflection and smooth over my hair to tame nonexistent strays. "So, you _are_ aware I have chambers of my own? I was beginning to wonder." I grin as he steps closer.

He chuckles as he straddles the bench I am sitting on at my dressing table, his legs nearly caging me in place. "I am aware. But it was not until I was missing your company terribly that I sought you out. Did you miss me?"

His boyish grin, even more pronounced and beautiful now that his beard is gone, makes me laugh. "I did, if you must know."

"Good." He leans in closer. "It was dreadfully difficult to be away from you for the entire day. The most difficult part, by far, was leaving you in my bed, wrapped in the quilts." His finger traces a blazing trail across my shoulder. "I feared I would have to send a messenger to inform my father I could not meet with him this morning." All too soon, he relents and withdraws his touch before looking around my bedchamber. "I must say, though, your chamber looks much more comfortable than mine."

"I would venture to guess comfort lies in the eye of the beholder." With a pounding pulse, I turn to face him fully and lower my voice. "And I must say, sleeping in your arms each night has been more than comfortable."

He leans in close. "Then I will suggest we compare your bed to mine."

I raise a brow in question, happy to see his playful side fully returned. "Is that so?"

He grins. "It is."

"If you are so eager to sleep," I say as I return to staring at my reflection, "perhaps we should send a messenger to tell your father we cannot attend tonight. I wouldn't want you to tax yourself if you are feeling unwell."

He leans in closer and whispers in my ear. "I am not at all feeling unwell, Isabella. I was merely going to suggest we spend tonight in your chambers."

I stare at the reflection of his lips, so close to my ear, and my heart beats wildly in my chest. "If that suits you, My Lord."

"It does," he says simply as he pulls back.

I resume my fidgeting under his scrutiny, and I become self-conscious. "What is it?"

"What is what?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

"Why are you staring at me that way? Is my dress not appropriate for tonight? Should I—"

"You look every bit as beautiful as you did the day we were married, Isabella. Possibly even more so. Why did you think otherwise?"

"I am just nervous."

"Nervous?"

"It is the first public appearance we will have as husband and wife." I meet his eyes in the reflection. "It will also be the first time I will see your father since ..." I shake my head and look down. "I do not want to disappoint you."

He gently grasps my chin and turns my head, meeting my eyes. "You could never disappoint me. And I've already told you whatever my father feels about our union holds no bearing over my feelings on the matter ... my feelings for you." His gaze burns me with its intensity. "You are my wife and the mother of my child. Nothing will change that."

I nod, unable to speak under his heated stare. His lips move closer to mine, and I am sure he is going to kiss me. An abrupt knock on the door breaks the tension of the moment, and he pulls away.

He sighs, obviously unhappy about our interruption. But it has been expected. "That will be the call to let us know our presence is required." He stands from the bench and offers me his hand. "Are you ready to be officially presented before all of Galon as my wife and mother of my child?"

I take a deep breath, grasp his outstretched hand, and stand. "I am."

Edward loops my arm through his and leads me through the halls of Masenthorne Castle. Torches light our path to the great hall, and as we grow nearer, the corridor widens, with more and more guards stationed along the way. We are led to a large set of heavy doors with two armed guards standing at attention on either side.

Knowing I am going to see the king, I am suddenly more nervous than ever. I've not seen him since hearing of his conversation with my husband. I fear any discussion we may have would be inappropriate, given tonight's audience. I grip onto Edward's forearm. "Please do not leave my side tonight."

"An army could not drag me away," he whispers before bringing my hand to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss. He stands straight just before the doors open, and a herald announces our arrival as everyone, save the king and queen, rises from their seats.

"His Royal Highness, Prince Edward, and his bride, Her Royal Highness, Princess Isabella."

We walk together to the front of the room and present ourselves to Edward's mother and father. We bow and curtsy and stand once King Carlisle acknowledges us. My husband then leads me to my seat and places another kiss to my knuckles before taking his own.

The king goes on to speak about how the future prosperity of Galon depends on the men who defend it, and I grow more uneasy as our official announcement looms. I am so nervous I do not hear the king ask Edward to speak, and when he rises from his seat, I am startled and reach for him.

Ever the gentleman, Edward takes a moment to soothe my frayed nerves and brings my shaking hand to his lips. I smile up at him in thanks and nod at his questioning gaze. He then turns his attention to our guests.

"People of Galon, of the lands of Thornbridge, of Iredale and beyond, I come before you tonight to thank you for your unwavering support of my father, my king ... _our_ king." He pauses and looks around the room. Each and every eye is on him, and the crowd hangs on his every word. "My father has bestowed upon me the great honor of leading our men into battle, to guide us to victory against a common enemy—an enemy who seeks to take Galon and all she holds.

"They have already slain some of our men, killed a king and taken a kingdom they had no claim to, and they seek to take more. But we will not allow it. In the coming days, we will face an army who will go to any lengths to gain victory, to see us and the walls of this city fall, but _we_ will be victorious. And once we wash their blood from our hands"—Edward turns and offers his hand to me—"we will usher in a new era under the Cullen name."

With a deep breath, I take it and rise to my feet.

He peers down at me as he speaks, his warm hand moving to cover the child I carry. "My beautiful wife carries my child, my heir. Be it son or daughter, prince or princess, Isabella carries the future of this kingdom."

Cheers and whistles sound all around us, but it all fades into the background as I look up into my husband's eyes. As he brings my knuckles to his lips, the intensity in his gaze nearly steals my breath. Heat fills my cheeks, and I turn to face our guests. I'm greeted with smiles all around the room, everyone seemingly overjoyed with our news.

Edward then turns to them, and a hush falls over the crowd. "The Gods have done their part to bring me home, have seen to the continuation of our family line and the future of this kingdom. They will not allow us to fail. I _will_ lead our good men to defeat those who threaten our home, our lands, and all we hold dear." He looks down at me, his voice lowering so only I can hear him. "After all, I have something more valuable than all the lands in Galon to protect."

Accomplishing what his father wanted him to—showing our supporters he is more than capable of leading Galon's army—he helps me sit, taking his own seat beside me.

I can feel the pointed gaze of King Carlisle once we're seated, and I do my best to appear unaffected. Edward reaches for my hand, and I hold tightly to it.

"Pay him no attention. I have more than shown him our people support us. Look around the room." He tilts his head in the direction of our guests. "They can see I am strong enough to lead them, and I've already secured an heir to the throne." He looks deeply into my eyes. "I've done my part. My father has no reason to have any lingering doubts about our union or its benefits to Galon. And you have no reason to doubt yourself. You are a future queen, Isabella," Edward whispers. "Hold your head high."

I nod and cast my eyes to our joined hands as the king rises to speak. His words are muted in my mind as I replay my husband's whispered words as he stood before all of his men.

He sees me as more valuable than the lands under Galon's rule.

Lost in my own thoughts, I almost do not hear the king conclude his speech. "And with that, I say eat and drink, and may the future of Galon be secure with the promise of future generations." King Carlisle raises his glass, and everyone follows suit. He calls for the meal to be served, and within moments, plates and bowls of food that have been taunting me with their aromas are placed on the tables along with bottles of wine and pitchers of ale. The platters overflow with dishes I have never seen before but am excited to try, and my neglected stomach growls its protest at being ignored too long.

Edward reaches past me and spoons a healthy portion onto my plate before offering me the first bite with his fingers.

"This is probably my favorite," he says softly. The roasted, sweet meat is placed against my lips, and I open them for him to feed me. My tongue wraps around not only the food, but the tips of his fingers as well, lingering just a moment as he stares intently into my eyes. "I fear any amount of time we spend here tonight will be too much," he says, his voice low and rough.

Worried we may be drawing attention to our outward display, I pull back, licking my lips. "I am sorry, My Lord. I do not know what came over me," I whisper loud enough for only him to hear.

He leans impossibly closer. "Never apologize for ... _that_."

"Oh."

He opens his mouth as if to speak, but his attention is caught by something behind me. "She appears more than a little anxious to speak to me," Edward whispers.

I look over my shoulder and am met with the smiling face of Alice. Just beyond her is Jasper, still pale and weak, but he is present. It is a feat I did not think he would accomplish.

Once each platter and pitcher has been placed on all of the tables, Alice rises from her seat and comes toward us, launching herself at Edward. "Oh, brother. Thank you so much. I do not know what you said to him, but he is a new man," she says softly. "It is as if I have my husband back." She pulls away from Edward and smiles up at him. "Thank you."

It is not until now—with their arms around one another—that I realize their obvious difference in size. Their heads are nearly level, even with Edward seated.

"Alice," he says, holding tightly to her. "I—"

"Thank you." She says no more, but I know she is growing emotional. With her face hidden against her brother's shoulder, her shoulders shake with what are likely sobs. Watching them, tears of joy and relief gather in my eyes. She came so close to losing so much.

She pulls back and wipes her cheeks, a smile back in place. "Thank you for returning my husband to me."

"I only reminded him that his best weapon has always been his mind. He will always have a place by my side. I only regret he suffered when he led the men who rescued me. If I had known—" Edward begins, but Alice shakes her head.

"How could you? No, the decision was not yours, Edward. Your men did their duty to you. And regardless of the outcome, I will forever be grateful he came back to me." She shakes her head. "It may have taken him longer than I'd hoped, but in the end, it matters not. He is home, and I finally have hope the rest of him will return to me."

Eating, laughing, dancing, we spend the evening in a state of happiness, not thinking too much on what is to come. It does exactly what King Carlisle had hoped it would; it has shown the people of Galon and those who fight with us that Edward is more than ready to lead his men into war.

I stand by his side as he speaks to a few of his men. His commanding presence stirs feelings I have tried so hard to fight. My desire for my husband sparks to life and surges inside me. But the soft nudging of the child who grows in my belly draws my attention, reminding me that my husband may not feel that same desire for me in my current condition. It must be why he has yet to share my bed the way a husband and wife should.

His deep voice interrupts my melancholy thoughts. "Your husband must be a fool."

I look up into Edward's deep green eyes. "Oh? And why is he a fool?"

He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me to him. He tilts my chin up and nearly brings my lips to his. "Ignoring such a beautiful woman should be a crime. Anyone could come along and steal you away ... even steal a kiss." His words are breathed against my lips, and that spark I felt before ignites.

"I would not allow it," I say with a shaky breath.

"Would you allow _me_ to steal a kiss?"

I resist the urge to look around the room, to assure myself no one is privy to our exchange. If I have learned one thing in the time I have spent with Edward, it is that he is not one to be concerned with propriety. I permit myself to surrender to the feelings coursing through me.

"That which is freely given cannot be stolen," I whisper.

His mouth forms a wide smile as his lips meet mine, allowing all sense to leave me. I grip onto his shoulders and give in to the feelings he is stirring in me. Our kiss is not fit for polite company, and I can feel the hard planes of his body as he pulls me tighter to him.

"I believe it is time to retire to our chambers, Isabella," he says huskily.

* * *

**A/N: There ya go! Not another anxiety-inducing, angst-ridden cliffy this chapter. ;) So, I get the impression not too many of you care for Carlisle. Lol. Some rather imaginative descriptions of what you'd like to see happen to him were left for me. But remember ... he's the king. For better or for worse, he's got absolute power while on the throne. If he wanted to send Isabella packing, he could—child on the way or not. But don't worry, that's not going to happen. In fact, I'm pretty certain you're going to enjoy the next few chapters quite a bit. ;) **

**Again, no recs this week, but hopefully I'll catch my breath over the weekend and have some for you Tuesday. **

**Don't forget, the deadline has been extended until this Saturday, November 30th to donate to the Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation fundraiser, including the EPOV DoMH Captive and Duplicity outtakes! See the Facebook group or their blog, batbcomp. blogspot. com. for more details. Don't miss you chance to get a copy!**

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	25. Chapter 24

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember, I like to fiddle, so all mistakes are mine.**

_Previously ..._

"_I believe it is time to retire to our chambers, Isabella," he says huskily.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 24**

Before I am able to form a reply, he rests my hand on his elbow and guides me through the crowd. We wave our goodbyes as we pass Alice and Jasper, and I manage to embrace Rosalie before we reach the door. But before we can make our escape, Esme pulls us aside, intent on introducing me to the wife of a commanding officer in Iredale's army.

Edward stands patiently at my side as his mother makes the introductions. But even he cannot bear it for too long.

"Mother," he says, interrupting the queen and placing a warm hand over my belly, "Isabella is tired from the festivities tonight. I really must see her to her chambers."

"Oh, yes. I am terribly sorry." She turns to me. "Will I see you at morning prayers?"

I nod and open my mouth to speak, but before any words can leave my lips, Edward replies for me.

"If she is feeling rested enough." He leans down and places a kiss on Esme's cheek. "And thank you for tonight. I am sure it is a celebration people will remember for years to come."

Her eyes light up at the compliment. "Thank you, son." She looks to me and back to Edward. "Thank you both."

We nod our goodbyes and make our exit. As we walk side by side, the tension between us is evident. The heat we generated in the Great Hall simmers under the surface as we navigate the corridors back to my chambers in silence. Edward opens my door, and I walk past him toward the fire. With a racing heart, I lower myself onto the settee with every intention of removing my slippers. But when I hear the click of the lock, I fold my hands upon my lap and stare into the flames instead, nervous about what may come next. It has been far too long since we have indulged in the joys of the flesh. Edward, meanwhile, stands at the door, his arms folded across his chest, watching me.

"I do not think I have ever eaten so much in all my life." My voice wavers under his watchful eye.

He hums and pushes off the door, taking slow steps toward me. "Isabella."

I chance a glance up at him and drop my eyes quickly to the floor. His piercing gaze burns a hole through me, and I begin to squirm. "I have surely never _seen_ so much food." I raise my foot to remove my slipper.

Before I can untie a single lace, Edward is before me. I watch, wide-eyed, as he drops to his knees. "Isabella," he repeats, "do you truly wish to speak of the food?"

"I—" My mouth snaps closed as he takes one of my feet into his hands, loosening the laces of each slipper and removing them.

"So, you enjoyed yourself tonight?" His voice breaks through the daze of watching him at my feet.

"I did," I say, clearing my throat, meeting his eyes. "I had a wonderful time. I fear all of my anxiety was for nothing."

"As I told you it would be." His hand begins to rub a soothing pattern around my foot.

I lay my head back on the settee and close my eyes. "I do not think I have ever danced so much in one evening. I am guessing I danced with every man there tonight, except perhaps your father. Though, after knowing how he truly feels about me, I am not surprised he did not wish to dance with me."

He pauses in his ministrations. "Yes, well, that, and he is not exactly one for celebrations."

I cannot stop the laugh that bubbles out of me. I cover my mouth and mumble an apology. "I am sorry." I look down at my husband, contrite. "Truly, I am, but I already could guess your father is not one to indulge in too much wine or music or dancing."

"It would seem you've already taken the measure of him," he says, an amused grin on his face. He reaches for my face and pushes back a few errant hairs from my eyes.

I clear my throat and attempt to focus on our conversation. "I have. He is just so ... serious."

He searches my eyes, a serious look in his own. "Underneath it all, my father is a good man. He may be cold, severe even, but he has good intentions. He took the throne a very long time ago, when he was barely a man, so he was molded into the thinker he is by his advisors, calculating each and every measured step before he takes it. And I think sometimes he forgets that not every decision he makes will have life-altering consequences."

"Like dancing?"

He smiles a gentle smile and nods. "Like dancing."

When he begins rubbing at the sore arch of my foot, my eyes fall closed and I groan from the sensation. His hands still, but only for a moment.

"That feels divine," I whisper. His touch leaves fire in its wake as it moves from my foot and travels up my calf. When he begins massaging the tight muscles there, my eyes flutter open to lock with his.

As his gaze burns into mine, his fingertips move up my legs, dancing upon the skin just above my knees. He slowly rises up and leans in for a kiss. When his lips touch mine, his kiss is unhurried, languid at first, but full of so much promise for things to come. As the kiss increases in intensity, so does the need to have him in my arms, in my bed. My pulse quickens, and my breaths come faster, all while his hands move to draw me closer to him.

He pulls away, leaving me breathless, and rises to his feet. He towers over me, and his searing gaze pins me in place. Hovering over me, he rests a palm on the back of the settee. His free hand moves to my neck and brushes my hair aside. Warm and wet lips make contact with my skin, and the want I have for this man swells inside me. I close my eyes and relish the feeling.

His breath warms my already-heated flesh as he speaks. "Do you care to show me to your bedchamber, wife?"

Nerves I have not felt since our first night together assault my belly. My eyes blink open at the reminder.

My belly.

While I have shared a bed with him many nights since his return home, some even without my shift, he has made no move to claim me as his wife. And while he may enjoy resting his hands on our growing child as we sleep, going to my bed the way I believe he intends is another matter entirely.

"What is it?" he asks softly. His thumb gently brushes along my jaw. "I can see something troubles you." He lowers himself to the seat beside me and cradles my cheek in his hand. "Do you not wish for me to share your bed tonight?"

My eyes are downcast, and my voice is low. "We've shared a bed nearly every night since your return."

He carefully nudges my chin until my eyes meet his. "You know what I mean, Isabella." He leans closer and rests his forehead to mine, his lids falling closed. "I want my wife," he whispers.

"As I want my husband," I admit, my voice hushed. "But …"

He pulls away, his hand falling away and leaving my skin cool in its absence. "But what?"

I look down. The protrusion of my belly between us is obvious, and the babe within makes his presence known in the form of a kick. "I am—"

"You are beautiful." Again, he tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his heated stare. "And it has been far too long since I felt the pleasure your body can give me."

"You still want me that way?"

"More than you could possibly know."

"Then why …"

"Why what?"

My voice drops to a whisper. "Why have you not taken me since you returned home?" I am suddenly embarrassed, asking such a question of him.

"Did you not think I wanted to?"

I shake my head. "No."

"And why not?"

My cheeks heat. "Because I have slept beside you for over a month, and you've not yet touched me that way. Not even as I slept bare did you attempt to take me as a husband should. I thought it may be because I am not … the same. The child I carry has made me—"

"Unbelievably more beautiful to me, as I've already told you." His eyes search mine. He reaches up to move another errant curl from my face. "Truthfully, I've wanted you since the day I came home. But I wanted to make sure I was healed, that I was the man you deserve before I shared your bed that way."

This time, I am the one to reach out and hold his face in my hands. "You are and always will be the man I deserve. Most days it is I who feel unworthy."

"Never," he murmurs before crashing his lips to mine, devouring me where I sit. He surrounds me, and with no warning, he sweeps me into his arms. He lifts me from the settee as if I weigh nothing at all and carries me through the doorway leading to my bedchamber.

He places me on my feet, just an arm's reach from the bed, but his mouth never leaves mine. Months of separation, need, and want come pouring out of him as he struggles to disrobe me, and his hands quickly get tangled in the complicated laces at the back of my dress.

"A bit eager, are we?" I ask against his lips, breathless.

"You might say that. It has been far too long." He finally gives up fighting with my dress and spins me around. "As beautiful as you are in this gown, I would much prefer to see it on the floor."

"I'd forgotten how insatiable you could be, husband." I turn to look over my shoulder at him, my heart pounding in my chest.

He gives the last lace a good tug, freeing me from the confines of my gown. He leans in, whispering in my ear. "If you believe me to have been insatiable when we were first wed, just wait until it is not tent flaps separating us from prying eyes and ears, but stone walls." He wraps his arms around me impossibly tighter. "I believe my appetite for you will become"—his nose skims along my neck, his hot breath wafting over the sensitive skin there—"absolutely ravenous."

The familiar sensations he's invoking in me are nearly overwhelming, and I soon lose the fight to close my eyes. We stand in the center of my bedchamber as his hands explore the new softness of my body gently, reverently, and I give myself over to the pleasure.

"I've missed you," he murmurs into my ear. "So very much."

"As I've missed you."

No more words are spoken. Only the soft rustling of fabric can be heard as he begins to remove the layers of his own clothing, and all the while his touch never leaves me. A soft thud signals the removal of his scabbard as it hits the floor, and once he is divested of his weapon, he turns me in his arms.

His eyes search mine, and I see so much emotion shining back at me, it steals my breath. "Do you know how long I've dreamed of having you back in my arms like this?"

I shake my head as he pulls me closer to his chest.

"A very long time," he whispers just before tilts my chin up, his lips meeting mine. Not breaking the kiss, he reaches down and once again sweeps me into his arms. He takes just a few steps toward my bed—our bed—and I am laid in the pile of quilts, soft linens, and furs. I watch in rapt fascination as he peels off the last of his clothing, leaving him bare before me. Much like the first night we spent as man and wife, he crawls onto the mattress and toward me, his now strong and healthy form hovering over me.

The firelight dances over the surface of his skin, and for a moment, I cannot see the scars marring his body. But as I reach out and touch him, my fingertips brush over the raised flesh, reminding me what he endured to return to me.

He gently removes my hand from him and brings it to his lips for a kiss. "None of my dreams could even compare to the vision you are, Isabella." He places my spread hand over the center of his chest, over his pounding heart. "I …" His words fail him, but I can see on his face and in his eyes the overpowering emotions surging through him.

I reach toward him with my free hand, holding his stubbled cheek in my palm. "I know."

He descends on me then, his body covering mine as he wraps around me, gingerly navigating around the child between us. Silently, his hands roam, searching out my skin and preparing my body for his. My arousal slicks his fingers as they glide against my overly sensitive flesh. It takes only a moment for him to decide I am ready, and he slowly pushes inside me.

We both gasp at the feeling of being joined after being apart for so very long. Neither of us moves—we just cling tightly to each other.

"Gods in heaven." His groan vibrates against my neck. "I'd almost forgotten how good it felt to be inside you."

He kisses the skin of my neck, and I nod my head fervently. "I know. I know."

No more words are spoken as he grasps my legs and wraps them around his middle. He moves over me slowly, deeply, making me feel things I'd long forgotten about. His hands search out mine, and when he finds them, he intertwines our fingers, resting them on the pillow beneath my head.

Even though it has been many months since we have been together this way, our bodies move as if we'd never been apart. Already familiar, we move together as one, each of us breathing in what the other breathes out.

When his eyes finally meet mine, the intensity there pulls at something deep in my chest. His description of himself—saying he would be ravenous—is apt. It has been many months since I've seen such a hungry look in his eyes.

One of his hands moves beneath me, cupping my bottom and holding me firmly to him, all while his lips never leave mine. It does not take long for the pleasure to build. When his free hand moves to brush against where we are joined, I let out a moan of my own. Unlike the many times we coupled during our short time together while we journeyed to Galon, there is no fear of his men or anyone else hearing us. I cry out as the pleasure washes over me like a crashing wave of the sea, and he follows soon after.

With a thundering heart, I melt into his embrace as he rolls to his back, pulling me to his side. Our breathing slows, and the chilled air blowing through unseen cracks of the stone castle cools our overheated skin.

Several minutes pass in silence, and I glance up at my husband. The expression on his face can only be described as blissful. It has been far too long since I've seen him so content.

When his bright green eyes meet mine, the heat in my cheeks rises at being caught watching him. His grin tells me he finds it amusing.

"What?" I ask, looking up at him.

He shakes his head and kisses my temple. "Nothing, wife. Nothing at all."

I settle into his side, nuzzling against the warmth of his chest and closing my eyes. "I've missed this."

"Hmm." He kisses the top of my head and strokes a hand lazily up and down my back. The feeling is soothing, comforting in a way I'd forgotten, as we lie skin to skin.

Before his touch can lull me to sleep, a flutter of movement in my belly seizes my attention. "Oh!"

"What?"

I grab his hand and place it on the side of my belly. "Just here."

He complies, and his hand rests over the swell of my abdomen. His smile is wide. "He is active tonight." His eyes meet mine. "He must be happy, safe and protected inside his mother." He kisses my forehead. "Feels strong, too."

I nestle closer to him in his arms and wrap my own around him. His heart beats a steady rhythm as I lay my head upon his chest. "So, you wish for a son?" I whisper.

"I wish for my child to be born hale and hearty." He tilts my chin up to meet his stare. "And for my beautiful wife to be able to give me _more_ children. To ask the Gods for more would be greedy." He tucks me under his chin, closer still, and kisses the top of my head. "We have already asked so much of them."

We lie together in silence, his hand still resting over our child, my arms wrapped around him. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair, and his eyes close.

Even like this, content and relaxed, I can see he is once again distracted, a worry line between his brows.

"What troubles you?" I ask softly.

"I am worried about what is to come," Edward whispers. He removes my hand from his hair and kisses it, placing it on his chest. Besides our breathing and murmured words, the snap and pop of the fire is the only other sound in the room.

I tilt my head up and peer into his now-open eyes. "I am sure every man in the kingdom is worried for what is to come. But I truly do not wish to dwell on it too much." I shake my head and place a kiss on his chest before laying my head upon it. "I fear it will be a trial I am not ready to face." My hand moves to cover his where it still rests on the side of my belly.

He holds me tightly and kisses the top of my head. We lie in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. I know by the way he idly plays with the ends of my hair he is distracted, his mind elsewhere. And when he speaks, I understand why.

"I do not know what we are to face, or when, but I fear I will be asked to leave your side when the time comes." He shifts to his side so we are lying face to face. "I know my father will send me and our men to the battlefield, and I worry my hesitance to leave you and our child will be seen as disloyalty to my king."

"But you know you must go," I whisper.

"I do. But still ..." He shakes his head. "If it were up to me, I would—" He cuts off his own whispered words before gazing at me as I lay in his arms. "I do not wish to leave you and my son or daughter here while war wages beyond the walls of the city. And if those walls were to be breached, I fear that I would leave my post and all my men behind to assure your safety." He cradles my face in his hand. "If I were faced with such a choice—whether to stay with my men or leave them to be by your side—I fear my father may be rather ... displeased with my choice."

"You would disobey your king to be by my side?"

"The very idea that I would even consider it is practically treasonous, but I do not know if I would be able to stay away."

The way he is looking at me, the earnestness in his eyes, nearly takes my breath away. I am unfamiliar with the emotions I am feeling. No one—not a single person in my life— has ever made me feel the things I do when I look at him, when he holds me in his arms, or when he is merely near. To know he would sacrifice so much to keep me safe and protected, to be with me, is almost too much to bear.

"But why?" I whisper.

He cradles my cheek in his hand, his green eyes searing into mine. "Because I love you, Isabella."

My heart pounds at his admission. "You love me?"

He smiles. "I think I have loved you since I first heard you speak. That sharp-witted girl stole my heart, and I have not since been the same. As I told you before that horrible night when I was taken, I cannot imagine the rest of my life without you in it."

The memory of the many months I spent without him flashes through my mind, making my heart clench, and I realize something I may have known all along. My life up until I met him was void of the one thing I am now sure I feel for my husband.

"I ... I love you too, Edward."

My quiet admission is cut off with a passionate kiss as he rolls me to my back, caging me in his arms. Our fingers lace together over my head as he finds his way between my legs. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say the words, Isabella." His lips move to my neck as he enters me, words of love whispered against my skin. He moves slowly, carefully, as if I am the most precious thing in his world. He is always careful with me, but this time feels different. This time, I know I am loved, and I love in return.

* * *

**A/N: I'd love to hear your thoughts on their finally reconnecting and those ILYs. Took them long enough, didn't it? ;) **

**The Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation successfully raised over $7000, meaning more than $25,000 has been raised in total for both this year's and last year's fundraisers. I can only hope our efforts aren't needed next year. Thank you to all who donated. Xoxo**

**I have recs this week! **

**I just finished a really cute holiday story, A Home for the Holidays by CullensTwiMistress. It's an Olderward story ... much older. Summary: Bella's roommate, Kate, offers her a place to stay during Christmas break. Unfortunately for Bella, Kate's dad is kind of hot. Attraction, UST, and a meddling daughter may just bring these two together. **

**And a current WIP I need to catch up on ... The Butterfly & The Hawk by PearlyFox. Summary: She was my butterfly, twirling in the night, where she didn't belong. I was under her spell, I craved to see her. I ached to meet her.**

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	26. Chapter 25

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember, I like to fiddle, so all mistakes are mine.**

**There was a question by a reader on the last chapter about how far along Isabella is. At the end of chapter 24, she's just about six months along. Just keep in mind, in "ye olden days," the practice of counting weeks wasn't how pregnancies were counted. Think more of counting seasons and watching for symptoms. ;) Time has moved along a little more in this chapter. **

* * *

**Chapter 25**

The waning days of winter do not keep Edward, his men, and the men from the outlying villages inside the castle walls. No, they use the time to train. Hours and hours are spent in the fields, swords and bows in hand, preparing themselves for the fast-approaching battle. From sunup to sundown, they use the light of day to sharpen their skills. Many of my nights are spent waiting for my husband to return to our chambers; his meetings with his father and his council stealing the evening hours from us as well.

But on the days when it is not too cold and there is no snow falling, a fire is built at the edge of their training grounds, and I am allowed to observe them. While it may be a bit unorthodox for a lady to watch the men fight, it is not as if I have never seen the men in action. I have first-hand knowledge of their skills with their swords. And I truly believe Edward enjoys my presence. Knowing where I am seems to put his mind at ease, and he is able to completely focus on his men. These are my favorite days. Taking in the sight of my husband, dressed in the heavy furs and leathers worn in battle as he commands his men, warms me in ways I never thought possible outside of our bedchamber.

"Again!" he shouts at the men wielding their swords. "You expect to fight off a Rheman soldier like that?" He lifts his booted foot and kicks his man to the muddied ground. "They'll slice you open like a sow sent to slaughter." He takes several steps back front the melee and shouts, "Again!"

The man gets to his feet and he charges his opponent, letting loose a guttural cry as he does.

"How can you stand to watch this, My Lady?" Angela asks from her place next to me. "It is simply ... barbaric," she whispers. "Was it not enough to witness it on our journey here? I am surprised it does not give you nightmares."

I shrug, bringing the edges of my cloak tighter around me. "Honestly, I find it fascinating. To know how much work goes into preparing to fight an enemy makes me appreciate my husband's position." I turn to look at her. "The lives of his men are in his hands, the lives of everyone in the city, and watching him instruct them, I know it is a task he takes seriously."

"It is still barbaric," she mumbles.

I grasp her hand and move to stand. Given my present state, it is no easy feat. "Then I should not be asking you to subject yourself to watching them train."

She hurries to her feet to assist me, but she also places her hand on my arm and shakes her head. "No, My Lady, we can—"

"Nonsense." I loop her arm through mine. "Since this is so ... _barbaric_, let us go watch Sir Benjamin and the others practice with their bows."

"Truly?" Her excitement shines through at my mention of Benjamin, and I laugh, gaining the attention of my husband. Our eyes meet, and his focused expression, the one he has had for his men, changes into one of amusement.

"Does My Lady find something funny about my men?" he yells across the field. "Or perhaps you have grown bored of our display?" His men stop to watch our exchange.

"No, My Lord. I see no men, only boys playing in the mud," I reply, my smile and raised eyebrow a playful challenge. My voice carries over the chuckles of our audience. "If you must know, we are going to watch the more civilized of the lot of you. The archers seem to know how to remain upright and out of the mud."

As the rest of them laugh, Edward says something to Emmett before taking off in a sprint in my direction.

When he reaches me, he takes my hand, pulling me away from Angela. "Do not stay away from the fire for too long. It will grow colder as the sun sets." He looks up at the darkening clouds before returning his gaze to me. "And I believe we have one last heavy snow coming tonight." His imposing, intimidating figure is in juxtaposition to the concern in his eyes. Angling his body so no one can see, he places his hand on my rather large midsection as a reminder. "Promise me if you get cold, you will return to the fire or even return home? And stay far behind them as they aim. Not all of them are as skilled as they should be."

I nod, smiling at his worry. "I promise." I raise up on the tips of my toes and place a kiss on his dirtied cheek. "I will be careful."

His eyes flash to Angela, and hers smile back at him with mirth. She's one of the few who has seen him this way, as the caring, attentive husband. But it is especially rare for him to show his tender side outside our chambers. Still smiling, she turns away, allowing us our private moment.

"Good." He places a kiss to my hand and steps back. "And, Angela?"

My friend turns back, surprised at being directly addressed. "Yes, My Lord?"

"Please tell Benjamin he is responsible for my wife while you are observing."

A blush, not from the cold, fills her cheeks as she looks down in embarrassment at the mention of the man who is now openly courting her. "Yes, My Lord."

I smile and shake my head, pushing him toward the field. "Go. Return to your men. They need some direction."

He chuckles. "Indeed they do. They are just boys, after all," he says with a wink, taking a few steps backward before turning to saunter toward them.

I let out a sigh as I watch his retreating form. As soon as he reaches the men, he begins barking orders. His commanding presence demands respect, and the men are quick to give it. His broad shoulders, his tall, imposing form, his—

"My Lady, shall we go watch the archers?" Angela asks with a knowing smile on her face.

I clear my throat and nod once, pushing away all thoughts of what my husband looks like under his battle armor. "Of course, Angela. Lead the way.

The archer's field is no less crowded, even if it is less chaotic. The men are standing in a row, one next to the other, with their bows aimed at targets across the field. At the signal, they all let loose their arrows. Watching as they fly in an arc over the vast field is a mesmerizing sight.

"Your Highness." Benjamin bows with his greeting, looking over to Angela. "Hello, My Lady."

My friend's cheeks pinken, and a giggle threatens to bubble out of me.

"Hello, Benjamin." My greeting brings his attention back to me, and he smiles, his own cheeks growing pink.

"How may I be of service to you today?" He sneaks another covert glance at my friend.

I smile broadly. "Honestly, we were looking for a distraction." I side-eye Angela and then look back to Benjamin. "Watching my husband wrestle his men in the mud can only hold my attention for so long. We thought it might be a nice change of pace to watch the archers before we return to the keep."

His own smile is wide. "Thank you, My Lady, for gracing us with your presence." With an outstretched hand, he guides us to a nearby bale of hay. "I will warn you it is not all that riveting to watch, but we will do our utmost to make it at least somewhat entertaining for you."

"Thank you. I am sure it will be fascinating in its own way," I say with a smile.

Angela and I sit side by side and watch the men as they take aim, release their arrows, and pull another from their quivers. Over and over the men ready, aim, and release, and it is clear Benjamin was correct; it is not at all riveting.

Angela leans in close, whispering, "I did not think this would be so boring."

I raise a brow but do not take my eyes off the men in the field. "Would you prefer we go back to the muddy field?" I turn my head and meet her eyes. "I thought you would prefer to be in the company of Sir Benjamin."

She huffs an irritated breath.

I finally release the giggle I've been holding and wrap an arm around her shoulders. "I am sorry, Angela. I should not tease you." I lower my voice so I am sure no one but Angela can hear me. "Has he said anything about marriage? He's been courting you for months."

She shakes her head. "No. He thinks it best to wait until after the war with Rhema is over." She looks up at me with sad eyes. "He does not think it would be fair to either of us to say our vows with the battle looming ahead of us."

I turn my head and look over my shoulder toward the field where my husband trains with his men, thinking of how much we went through just days after we were wed. It may have been a harrowing experience for us both, but I would not trade a moment of the time we shared for anything. Even if Edward had never returned to me, I would have cherished those days.

I turn back to my friend and offer a small smile. "I would not let that stop you, Angela. We should grab hold of the gifts each sunrise brings us with both hands. Do not allow a day to pass that you could have some happiness."

A sudden shift in the men on the field before us gains our attention. The men wielding longbows step aside, and men dressed in peasants' clothes and carrying new weapons take their place. Their bows are smaller, level with the horizon and mounted to long stocks of wood, and their arrows are much shorter. But when they arm their weapons, holding them toward the ground and pulling back on the string before loading and firing, the power in their shot far surpasses the archers. The targets on the far side of the field visibly vibrate as the arrows pierce through the linen-covered straw.

"Sir Benjamin?" I call out.

He speaks to one of his men before walking over to us. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"What kind of weapon is that?" I ask, pointing to the strange bows.

"'Tis a crossbow, My Lady." He furrows his brow. "Did you never see one in Adwen?"

I shake my head. "No, I am afraid I led a quite sheltered life before I left Adwen." I watch in amazement as the men load, aim, and fire. "I am surprised more men are not practicing with these than the longbows." I watch as yet another arrow pushes into a target with force before looking up at Benjamin. "And they seem to be much more powerful."

"Yes, they are definitely more powerful." He looks out across the field. "They also take a bit longer to reload and are in shorter supply." He turns back to me. "Not only are the weapons themselves in short supply, the arrows are as well, which is a shame. It takes much less time to train a man to become skilled with a crossbow than build his strength to fire a longbow, which is why the villagers who have volunteered to fight have been training with them for the last several weeks."

The ease at which some of the men use the crossbow fascinates me, and I am unable to stop the foolish request before it leaves my lips. "I would like to learn." My eyes are still trained on the men on the field.

Several moments of silence from Benjamin pass before he stutters his reply. "You wish to learn to use a crossbow, My Lady?"

I turn to him, my eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Yes. Do you not think it wise to learn to defend myself?"

"I am sure it would be wise, My Lady." He lowers his voice. "I am only unsure how your husband might feel about it."

I raise a brow. "Then perhaps we should find out."

He nods and bows. "Yes, Your Highness."

I laugh as I watch him scurry off to ask my husband's permission to place a deadly weapon in my hands. As my chuckles die down, I place a hand on the hay bale and move to stand.

"My Lady!" Angela grasps my forearm, halting my meager progress in standing.

"What?"

"What are you doing?" Her wide eyes light her aghast face. "You are not serious about learning to use one of those … contraptions, are you?"

"I am absolutely serious. I think it is more than prudent to learn to defend myself and my child. My husband and every other able-bodied soldier will be outside the keep, defending everyone within it, and I want to do everything in my power to be able to defend myself and my child should Rhema's army breach the castle walls." I place a hand over the top of my protruding stomach. "It is my duty as his mother to protect him."

From the corner of my eye, I can see Angela's obvious displeasure with my request, but I ignore her. Instead, I watch as Benjamin returns to our side with a smirk on his face. "His Highness will allow it."

"Wonderful! Where do we begin?"

Mindful of my step, I'm led to the line where many of the men have gathered to watch their princess fire a weapon. It does not escape my notice how many of them look at me as though I am the most amusing sight they've ever seen. Their bright eyes, smirks contained by bitten cheeks, and muffled coughs are all signs they're holding their snide comments and mirth until they can freely mock me in private.

I listen intently as Benjamin explains all the moving parts of the crossbow and watch as he fires several of the short, featherless arrows called bolts. With only a small amount of hesitation, he hands it over to me.

"Oh," I say, the heft of the weapon surprising me. "It is much heavier than I thought it would be."

"Yes, it is deceptively small. Most men are surprised the first time they handle one." He pauses, his mouth opening and closing as if to say something.

"What is it, Benjamin?"

"Are you certain you wish to do this, My Lady? You don't really need to learn to fire a weapon. You'll have Galon's entire army guarding you and the castle when the time comes."

"Yes, I will, and I am beyond grateful so many men are willing to stand with my husband to protect Galon. But you cannot guarantee the castle walls won't be breached. You must understand, I want to be able to protect my child if the need arises."

He nods. "Of course, My Lady."

Benjamin goes on to instruct me, assisting me in how to place the stirrup of the bow at my feet and draw back on the string. Firing the weapon is a somewhat difficult task given the size of my belly, but I manage. He makes me take several practice shots to grow comfortable with holding, arming, and firing the bow.

"Do you feel ready to load it?" he asks me, a bolt in hand.

I nod once, feeling confident. "I do."

With some hesitation, he instructs me to again place the stirrup at my feet and pull back on the string. He hands me a bolt but keeps hold of it as I reach for it.

"This will kill a man if aimed well. You must remember this."

"Is that not the point, Benjamin?"

"It is, but you will do well to remember. Do not aim it at anyone or anything you do not intend to kill." The earnestness in his eyes is clear.

"I understand."

He finally releases it, and with a trembling hand, I place the bolt in the slot, just within the drawn string.

"Aim it at the target, My Lady."

The gathered crowd behind me murmurs, but I put all of my focus on the target across the field. I close one eye and look through the sight. Taking one deep breath, I steady myself. And blowing that breath out, I squeeze the lever at the bottom of the stock and release the bolt.

In the blink of an eye, the featherless arrow flies across the field and lands in the target with a an audible _thunk_. When the men gathered behind me gasp and murmur, I realize I've struck the very center of the target.

"Well done, My Lady!" Benjamin's compliment is full of excitement, and he encourages me to try again.

Over and over, I ready, load, and fire the crossbow, and each time, I strike the center of the target. I am so focused on my task I do not realize I have a new onlooker. That is, not until he begins to clap as I land yet another bolt in the center of the target.

"I must agree with Sir Benjamin. Well done, Your Highness."

At the sound of my husband's voice, I drop the crossbow to my side and spin on my heel. "Edward, I ..."

"Do not stop on my account. It's quite fascinating to watch you, My Lady. I cannot remember the last time I saw someone take so quickly to a weapon." He steps closer, his eyes never leaving mine as he approaches. "I always knew there was a formidable warrior somewhere inside of you." His eyes shine with sincerity, even though his grin might suggest he is otherwise amused.

"Benjamin said you approved. I did not—"

"Shh," he says, placing a finger to my lips. "I did, and I do approve." He looks around at the small, assembled crowd. "Your princess has decided to train to defend Galon and its next prince or princess," he shouts over their murmuring. "She should be an inspiration to all of us." He turns back to me and looks into my eyes. "We would all do well to be as brave."

The chaste kiss he gives me in front of his men incites cheers and whistles, and I smile against his lips. When his mouth leaves mine, he pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me and placing another kiss to my temple. As I rest my head against his chest, I catch sight of a few men on horseback at the crest of a nearby hill.

It is King Carlisle and a few of his advisors. Across the distance, we lock eyes, and I do not look away. A moment passes between us, and the tension I've felt in the man's presence splinters and cracks with a single nod from him.

I seem to have finally won the king's approval.

* * *

"Oh, Isabella, this is simply beautiful." Alice is holding up a bundle of fabric, the deep green linen shining in the sunlight that streams through the window. "You must use it for a dress for the babe. If he or she is born with Edward's coloring, this shade would look absolutely beautiful."

"It would." I run my hands over it, feeling its softness and thinking of how many things I still need to make for our impending arrival.

"You simply must take it."

"It is beautiful."

Alice turns to the merchant. "She will take this. We will need it delivered to the castle."

While she handles the transaction, I take a look around. The market outside Masenthorne Castle is bustling with life on this sunny, early spring day. Men and women are loud as they bargain over their goods, and children play amongst the crowd. Hounds roam freely, many at the heel of their masters, but some beg for scraps from anyone who makes eye contact with them. The wagons overflow with their offerings—baked goods, fabrics, jewels and stones, anything you can think of. It is a far cry from what I remember of the paltry markets of Adwen.

We're escorted by two of Edward's men, but we have been able to go where we please. Even with the underlying unease of everyone in Galon, it has been a pleasant morning. Everyone is friendly, even if they are a bit weary from the many weeks of battle preparations.

Just as Alice finishes up, I catch sight of several wagons being loaded. Barrel after barrel is being handed up and secured before it is sent in the direction of the castle.

I grasp Alice's arm as she walks past me. "What is that? Why is so much being delivered?" I ask, pointing toward the scene.

"Oh, I do not know." She turns to the soldier escorting us. "Do you know why so much is being delivered to the castle?"

"It is grain, My Lady. They are preparing."

"For?" I ask, fearful of the answer.

"A siege, My lady."

My heart skips. "A siege?"

"We're only preparing for any possibility, My Lady."

"That is good. That is very good," I say as the last of the barrels is loaded and the remaining wagon is sent on its way.

"Ladies, we should probably return to the castle. Your husbands asked that we not linger too long in the market."

"Of course." With a forced smile on my face, I slip my arm through Alice's and allow the men to lead us back to Masenthorne.

* * *

"How long do you think it will last?" I sit beside Edward on the settee, his arm around my shoulders and his other hand resting on top of my swollen belly. It's grown so large in the last weeks, his hand is nearly dwarfed by the size of it. The midwife predicts another moon cycle or two and the child will be here.

"We could face them on the battlefield, or they could show up in the night and camp outside our gates much like we did in Adwen. It could be over in a matter of hours, or we could be kept inside the castle walls for months. There is no way of knowing until it gets closer. But we want to be prepared for anything. It would do us no good to be able to defend the castle, only to die of starvation by mid-summer."

"Will we know what we are to face before they arrive?" I rest my head on his shoulder.

He hesitates.

"What is it?"

"My best guess is Aro will begin his march for Galon any day now, if he has not already. The weather has broken, and the road over the mountain will be passable. And now that winter seems to finally be over, my father has decided to send out scouts. Groups of two or three riders will leave, one in each direction, in hopes of finding out from which way Rhema will approach."

"Two or three?" I ask in a whisper. I look up to him. "What if they are captured? Two or three men against an army is a death sentence."

"It is the way of it, Isabella. These men are trained for this. It is what they know."

"But your men could not protect you when—"

"That was not the same thing. It was an ambush. There was very little that could have prevented that attack. This is much different. We will have the upper hand this time. We know they are coming, and we have not only time to prepare, but we also have the advantage of this happening on our land." His deep green gaze penetrates mine. "We will defend our home. Do not doubt the abilities of my men."

"I won't," I whisper.

The fire cracks and pops as we sit wrapped in each other's arms.

"My father has asked me to lead the charge if we are to meet Aro on the battlefield."

"And if he chooses to try and seize the castle and we are all locked inside?"

He looks down at me, a sad smile on his lips. "Then I will protect you with my sword, My Lady."

"You've always protected me."

"But not from my own father."

"Edward, please do not—"

"But he was horrible to you."

I place a hand on his cheek. "Whatever differences we had are over. I am carrying your child, and he has no more reason to find fault in me. Please, for the sake of your kingdom, the sake of your family, put it behind us."

Several moments pass before he speaks again. "I do not wish to be the kind of king he has been," he whispers.

"How so? Your father may be a lot of things, but he is a good leader. He always puts his people first. They are cared for and safe ... protected. What more is there to ask for from a king?" My voice is equally quiet.

"He may be a good leader, but he lacks one thing I wish to lead my people with when it is my time on the throne."

"What is that?" I cradle his scruffy cheek in my hand.

"Heart."

* * *

**A/N: Le sigh. Noble intentions, no? I'd love to hear your thoughts. **

**Some recs for you this week. **

**The completed story rec this time is an older one, but I love it. Yes by GeekChic12. Summary: "He talks to me sometimes. I mean, it's usually sort of one-sided, but… every once in a while, he'll make eye contact with me, and I feel like I've won the lottery or something." A boy most people overlook. A girl who sees just how amazing he is. **

**A current WIP I'm excited to dive into soon is The Hermit and The Hunk by Pandora's Box Is Heavy. Summary: Bella's life hasn't always been easy. The circumstances of her past have resulted in her living a half-life hidden away behind locked doors. When her new, green-eyed neighbor moves in, will she be able to open her door, and her heart, wide enough to give them a chance at something wonderful?**

**And I should be ready to dive in soon. I just finished writing the epilogue to this tale, so with updates twice a week, this one will wrap up with the epilogue on Christmas Eve. :) **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	27. Chapter 26

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember, I like to fiddle, so all mistakes are mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 26**

The tension at Masenthorne Castle grows as the days pass. The last of the spring snow fell weeks ago, and warmer days have settled over the land, guaranteeing Rhema's imminent arrival. The soldiers continue to train, men continue to bring stores of grain and small livestock inside the castle walls, and the constant tapping and hammering of the blacksmiths can be heard at all hours of the day and night as more weapons are forged.

It feels as though we are living on borrowed time.

Scouting parties have been sent out by the king's order—a group of three in each direction—only to return with no word of Rhema's position.

The ladies of Masenthorne have taken to sewing circles, stitching new clothing and blankets for those who, at any time, will be brought inside the castle walls to seek refuge from the coming battle. It is in the company of these women where I have found myself the last several days. But it is not clothing for the villagers I toil over. No, it is the last of what is needed for my child's arrival.

The dresses, quilts, and linen cloths to wrap the babe's bottom are nearly ready, which is a good thing. The midwife tells me I may not see another full moon before he arrives.

Only the quiet hum of conversation is heard as we all work on our tasks. Alice tries to lighten the mood that has fallen over us by sharing what new skill young Jameson has mastered, and Rosalie quietly guides young Emily in her attempts to finger knit with a ball of spun wool. The girl's small fingers repeatedly get tangled, and her smile and honest-hearted laugh are refreshing in the face of what is to come.

The sound of hoofbeats and loud voices enter the courtyard outside the window, gaining my attention. I rise from my seat, albeit ungracefully. "I am well," I reassure Angela when she reaches out to help me.

I waddle to the window and peer outside. One of the groups of scouts has returned after only four days. I watch as they dismount and hurry to enter the keep. A knot forms in my stomach as I think of what urgent news they have to share with the king.

"Isabella, you really mustn't be so anxious every time a rider returns. Rising to your feet each time you hear a sound, you will tire yourself too much to birth that child when the time comes," the queen says with a nod toward my immense belly. "If it is urgent, we will know."

I nod once as I step back toward my chair beside hers. "You are right. I am sorry. I will try not to—"

She reaches over and grasps my hand, squeezing it gently. "It is all right. We are all a bit anxious."

I resume my work, and the quiet conversation continues, but I cannot help but look toward the window.

The queen places her bundle of fabric in the basket at her feet and turns to me. "Perhaps a break from this monotonous task is in order, hmm?"

"A break?" I ask.

Esme turns to her daughter, niece and other ladies in the room. "If you will excuse us, I think Isabella and I might take a stroll through the halls. I do believe a bit of walking and a change in scenery would do us both some good."

"Of course, Mother," Alice replies before smiling up at me as I rise to my feet. "I remember the last few weeks I carried Jameson. Walking seemed to be the only thing to ease some of my discomfort. I do hope you feel better."

"Thank you, Alice."

The queen guides me into the halls, and we walk arm in arm, stopping only to gaze out the few windows we pass. The hurried pace at which everyone else moves only increases my anxiety, and the queen notices.

"This castle has stood for generations, Isabella. The Cullen family has lived within its walls since the final stone was laid." She pats my forearm as it loops through hers. "You need to have faith that we will prevail."

"I have faith," I say softly, my eyes flashing to hers and back to our path. "It does not mean I am not worried about what is to come. I worry for the men who might give their lives to protect us."

"Of course, you worry. We all worry. But you must remember, those men have pledged their lives to protect us. I have no doubt that under my husband and yours, Masenthorne, as well as Galon, will stand because of them." She leans in close, smiling and lowering her voice. "But perhaps a few more prayers would not hurt."

I smile in return. "No, I do not believe they would."

We walk side by side in the direction of the chantry. The queen does her best to distract me from the commotion in the halls.

"Have you and Edward spoken of any names?" she asks from beside me.

I shake my head. "No, we—"

"Mother, might I steal away my wife for a few moments?" Edward's sudden appearance in our path is a surprise. His smile appears forced, and I am instantly on guard.

"Oh, of course, Edward." She releases my arm and walks toward her son. "I trust you will take extra special care of her?" She looks over her shoulder at me. "Our circumstances are weighing especially heavy on her today. We do not want to see her tax herself. Isabella needs to maintain her strength after all."

"She is in good hands, Mother." He kisses her cheek. "And Father wishes to have word with you."

She sighs. "Then I shall go and see what is so urgent." With a parting kiss to my cheek she walks away, leaving the two of us to stare at one another.

Silence stretches between us, both of us aware there is something amiss. The way he is staring at me makes me nervous, as if he is looking for something, memorizing me in a way he never has.

"Shall we take a walk?" he finally asks.

"That would be lovely." I offer him a smile and take his arm, allowing him to lead us toward a secluded corridor and down a narrow, winding staircase to the lowest level of the castle.

The halls are quiet as we walk, not a servant in sight, and neither of us speaks to break that silence. The light of midday soon illuminates our path, the halls growing brighter as we near the doors to the courtyard.

I do not press him for answers, allowing him time to gather his thoughts. He obviously has something to tell me, but he appears reluctant to speak. Suddenly, his steps halt and he turns to me, his gaze focused elsewhere as he looks over my shoulder. When it returns to me, I see what looks like an apology in his eyes.

"A group of scouts has returned with word."

I wait, swallowing the lump in my throat. "What word do they bring?"

He exhales a heavy breath and takes my hands in his, not meeting my eyes. "They say Rhema is approaching from the south. They are a several days' ride away."

"It is time then?"

He nods once. "It is. And my father has given the order." His voice is low, rough, as if it painful to speak the words. "We are to form a line and try to cut them off before they reach our lands."

Tears fill my eyes, but I take a deep breath and blow it out, attempting to rein in my emotions. "You are to leave me, then? You are to lead the army to the battlefield?"

He nods.

"For how long?" My hand instinctually goes to my belly, fears of him missing the birth of our child suddenly all but realized.

"I do not know." Finally, his gaze meets mine. "We could be gone for quite a while—weeks, perhaps longer. I have no way of knowing." He searches my eyes, his reflecting something I have not yet seen in them. His large, warm hand moves to cover mine, and our child kicks forcefully under our touch. "It is likely I will miss the birth."

I nod as I look down at our interlaced fingers. "I suppose it was only a matter of time before your father deemed you were needed elsewhere." I look up at him and smile sadly. "I knew it was coming."

"As did I. It does not make it any easier to leave you." He looks around and spots a nearby bench. "Come." He gently nudges me toward it, and we sit side by side, our joined hands now resting on his thigh. "You know I would not leave you if I had a choice."

"I know." I look up at him, gathering all my strength. "But your king has spoken. And as much as it pains me to say it, right now, Galon needs you more than I do."

He nods in agreement. "It does." He turns to fully face me. "I have asked my father to send word of the child if I am away long enough to miss his arrival. And if anything were to go wrong—"

I place my fingertips over his lips. "You will do your duty and then return to me. There is no reason to worry. I have your mother, your sister, Lady McCarty, and more women than I could possibly need to bring our child into the world safely. Do not give us a second thought. I will not have your distraction on my conscience."

"You must know how impossible that will be." His expression—a furrowed brow and downturned lips—makes me smile.

"But you have already done the impossible. I thought I'd lost you once, and you returned to me. This will be no different." I look intently into his eyes. "You _will_ return to us."

"You must understand, facing Aro's army ... We—"

"You will do your duty to your king and fight for your people. Your men are depending on your leadership. I will not be the reason for you not giving them your full focus."

He lifts my hand to place a kiss on my palm. "Your selflessness continues to astound me, Isabella."

"I disagree. Wanting you to return home is entirely selfish on my behalf." He stares down at me, and looking up into his eyes, I see worry and concern. "What troubles you?" I ask.

"I've taken the liberty of having a gift made for you."

"A gift?"

He nods, motioning for one of his men to step forward from the shadows of the castle steps. I turn and watch as he walks toward us. In his hands is a wooden box, thin but wide. He places it in Edward's waiting arms and turns to walk away.

"What is it?" I ask.

Edward's eyes meet mine, and while he appears to be enjoying giving me a gift, the worry is still there. "I want you to know that while I am gone, I have asked that a guard watch over you at all times. I also know the unexpected can happen, and there may come a time when you need to protect yourself."

He slowly opens the box, revealing a crossbow. Alongside the bow, a row of sharpened bolts catch the sun's rays.

My hand ghosts over the short arrows. "This is for me?" I ask, looking up at him.

He nods, a sad smile on his face. "You had exceptional aim when you trained alongside my men, and I know you will be able to protect yourself if the need arises. I want you to keep it with you while I am gone."

"When do you leave?"

He breathes a heavy sigh as he closes the box, placing it on the ground beside his feet. "We will set out at dawn."

I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. "Then I wish to spend the rest of the day in our chambers. I want to have you to myself until you leave."

His entire body tenses, and as I open my eyes to look up at him, his gaze is on someone or something behind me. I turn and see one of the ever-present messengers standing in wait.

"I must go."

I look back to him. "You will not leave without saying goodbye, will you?"

He lifts my chin, his green gaze burning into mine. "I will not. You have my word."

* * *

Standing outside the king's chambers, Edward kisses his mother's cheek. "Goodnight. And I shall see you at first light." He takes my hand and wraps it around his arm.

Bidding one another one more goodnight, we go our separate ways, Esme toward her rooms, and us toward ours. The corridor between the king's chambers and our own is all but abandoned at this late hour.

"I am sorry I could not get away before now. There was nothing to be done about it."

I shake my head. "I understand. You had much to prepare for tomorrow."

"That may be so, but being approached by my mother as I left my father's chambers was not part of my plans." He turns to me as we walk. "I am sorry we could not hide away in our rooms as you asked of me."

"I know your leaving is difficult for your mother. To sequester ourselves in our chambers would have been selfish."

Once again, he places a kiss to my hand. "And your selflessness continues," he muses. "I do not think I would be quite as generous with your time if our roles were reversed."

"She has always been the one to see you off and to worry over your safe return. Just because you now have a wife to do it does not mean she will not. I would not take these few, precious moments of your company from her."

He nods but says nothing. We walk up the stairs in companionable silence, my hand still clutched to his arm.

As he ushers me into our chambers, Angela is there to greet us. "My Lord, My Lady," she says with a curtsy. "Will you need assistance tonight?" she asks, looking at me, but it is Edward who answers her.

"No, Angela, I will tend to my wife. That will be all," he says, dismissing her. Standing at the window with his back to us, I recognize the tense set of his shoulders.

"Thank you, Angela," I say softly.

She nods and offers a quick curtsy before making her exit.

With a fire blazing to chase off the coolness of the evening, the room is quite warm, but a chill of a different sort has settled over the space. I step toward the troubled man gazing out into the night and place both my hands on his shoulders. His muscles tense under my touch. "What is it?" I whisper.

He reaches for a hand and turns his head to place a kiss there. "It is a strange feeling to not want to leave." He turns and pulls me to him. "For so many years, I could not wait to go out and prove myself to the world, to my father. At first it was on the battlefield, and in recent years he has had enough trust in me to speak for him, to barter peace with our enemies." He smiles down at me. "And I would say my bargaining skills have been more than successful as of late."

I return his smile. "As would I."

His hand moves to cup my cheek. "But I do not think any bargaining will help us avoid what is coming."

"I know," I whisper.

"I want you to know that tomorrow, when I am readying my men to leave—"

I silence him with a chaste kiss. "I know."

The kisses that follow are anything but chaste, but he is still tender and caring as he removes my dress and leads me to our bed. Soft caresses and whispered promises and words of devotion warm me against the cool draft blowing through the room. And when he finally lies behind me and pushes his way inside my body, I feel a sadness at not knowing when we will come together like this again. Our joining is wordless, only quiet sounds and heavy breaths, and when we find completion, it is together and quiet.

So much is unspoken.

When we finally pull apart, he does not release me; he merely turns me to my back and rests his head low, his lips brushing against the large swell of my belly where our babe grows. I rake my fingers through his hair as he whispers words I cannot hear to our child. Hot tears well in my eyes, finally escaping into my hair as I try to accept the uncertainty of the days to come.

* * *

Alice stands by my side, her hand in mine, as we watch the men saddle their horses and check their weapons. Jasper may not be able to fight alongside his cousin, but he is here, overseeing their preparations.

"I am worried for them." I pull my cloak tighter and adjust the hood on my head in an attempt to ward off the chill of the early summer morning.

"It is difficult not to be." She turns to face me. "But it is their duty."

I nod. "It is."

She squeezes my hand. "And keeping the home fires burning is ours."

I turn to meet her eyes. "How many times have you had to send them off, your brother _and_ your husband, not knowing if you would see them again?"

"More times than I care to remember." She turns back to the field. "And it never gets any easier to send them on their way. Even before Jasper and I were wed, it was difficult to tell him goodbye." She breathes a laugh, smiling at the memory. "He must have a dozen embroidered handkerchiefs from me from over the last few years." Her voice softens. "We could not openly show any affection. I could not kiss him goodbye, so it was the only thing I could send with him to remember me."

I turn my own gaze back to the men and watch as Edward checks over his horse with his cousin and squire beside him.

"I worry about what they will face on the road." The heavily-laden horses shift in their impatience to begin their journey as more supplies are loaded onto them. "Edward told me they are being sent directly into Rhema's path." I turn to Alice with wide eyes. "I do not think I have ever been so terrified."

She squeezes my hand and turns her head, raising a finger to point toward the wall blocking a field from view. "Out there wait hundreds of men who will be led by your husband." Her eyes meet mine. "And hundreds more from the outlying lowlands will be waiting here for word for when they are needed. Whatever is to come, the men are ready. Masenthorne Castle will be protected. There is no reason to worry."

"It is not Masenthorne I worry over," I murmur. She raises a brow and I sigh. "Yes, I know."

"I am not sure you do. My brother has been leading many of these men since he was seventeen. He is good at what he does, and we must have faith in him. They are not going into this heedlessly, Isabella. Yes, Edward will lead these men into battle, but unlike the ambush, he and his men are prepared. He knows his enemy this time. Edward knows how ruthless Aro and his army can be, and he is prepared for that." She turns back to the men before us. "We need only have faith in him."

The king and queen emerge from the shadows of the keep and step into the gray light of morning, gaining the attention of the men. No words are spoken, but King Carlisle watches with a discerning eye.

When everything seems to be loaded and secured, Edward turns and steps toward his father, unsheathing his sword and driving the tip into the dew-covered earth as he takes a knee.

"It is an honor, My Lord, to assure the safety of Galon. May the Gods guide me on your behalf."

The king says nothing, merely nodding in acknowledgement of his son's pledge as Edward gets to his feet. They exchange quiet words before my husband steps toward me. To say I am shocked would be utterly inadequate.

"I cannot leave without one more look at you." He reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips. "I do believe thoughts of you and the child will drive me to madness while I am away."

"As will my thoughts of you, My Lord." I smile when he kisses my knuckles once more. "Godspeed, and come home to me," I whisper.

"I shall do my very best," he says with a grin. "And do not tax yourself too much while I am away. I need you to take care of yourself and my son."

I smile up at him. "You know I will."

"I love you, Isabella," he whispers. "Do not forget that."

"I could never forget. I love you, too."

Without another word, he turns away from me and strides toward his men, ordering them into formation. I watch as he mounts his stallion and leads them toward the first of the castle's gates. With one last look over his shoulder, our eyes meet. So much is said in that one look.

_Be safe. _

_Do what you must and come home._

_I love you. _

His gaze does not linger, and before I allow my emotions to get the better of me, he turns back to his path and is gone.

* * *

The morning after Edward and his men leave, the call goes out, and Masenthorne becomes a swarm of activity. As I watch from the window of the queen's sitting room, villagers pour into the castle's outer courtyard at a staggering rate. Men, women, and small children have come to seek shelter from the coming battle that may or may not come to our gates. Watching them push and shove for their place in line shows just how urgent our situation has become, and my anxiety and worry for my husband only grows.

A week has passed, and still more villagers find their way through Masenthorne's gates. The lower levels of the castle are nearly full to the brim with people seeking refuge. The urge to help them settle in to their new surroundings is strong, but as my time to give birth grows nearer, I am encouraged to rest.

I try and busy myself with my sewing, but the distraction is not enough. Spending time in the chantry—sitting on the hard benches—does nothing but cause pain low in my back, so I retreat to my chambers. The pains only increase in frequency as more time passes, and as the sun rises nearly a fortnight after Edward's departure, I know it is time.

I am sent to my bed, and the midwife and her attendants, as well as Esme, Alice and Rosalie, all come to my aid. They stay by my side, gently encouraging me, reminding me of the prize at the end of my labor. They hold my hand, wipe my brow, and keep my mind occupied between the waves of pain. When the sun rises on a new day and the child is yet to be born, my exhaustion is evident. I close my eyes for brief respites between my pains and can barely hold up my own head. When they begin to exchange worried glances, I, too, begin to worry.

"Is the child well?" I ask with panted breaths. Alice wipes a cool cloth across my face as I lie on my side.

The midwife places her warm hand upon the bare skin of my belly while the fingers of her other hand probe down below. Her eyes meet mine, and I find determination. "The child still moves, My Lady, but he needs to be born. You've labored too long." She turns to Alice and Rosalie. "Help Her Highness to her feet and support her as she squats." Again, she turns to me. "Now comes the hard work, My Lady."

I am helped from the bed, and Alice and Rosalie each wrap an arm around me as I lower into a crouch.

"With the next pain, I want you to push."

I say nothing but nod in agreement. As my belly tightens, another wave of pain washes over me, and in this position, it is different. I feel centered, open, and the weight of my child is heavy. It feels as though he _wants_ to come out. With a renewed vigor, I lower my chin to my chest and push.

"That is it, My Lady!" The midwife's tone of voice is soothing, and it is the encouragement I need. But with each round of pushing, I grow weaker. As the light streaming through the window moves across the floor, I know it is taking far too long.

"I cannot." I lay my head against Alice's shoulder as she wipes yet another cool cloth over my face. She's beside me on her knees, holding me up as I squat. Rosalie's arm is wrapped around me as well on my other side.

The midwife's pointed gaze meets mine. "You can, My Lady, and you will." She returns her attention to the matter at hand. "Lady Whitlock, Lady McCarty, keep a good hold on her." Her eyes flash to mine. "Now, Isabella, with the next pain, you are to push. I believe the little prince or princess is nearly here."

"No, I cannot," I say with panted breaths. Exhaustion has taken hold, and I fear I will not be able to continue. "I need to rest. Please let me rest," I beg.

"There will be no more rest for you, My Lady. The time is now." Her hand lies over my belly as the child squirms, fighting his way out. "I can feel another pain coming, Isabella. You must work _with_ your body to push him out. Your child is almost here. I can see the hairs upon his head."

As the tightening increases, so does the pain along with it. I grit my teeth, press my chin to my chest, and push with all the strength I have left in my body. The burning and stretching is like nothing I have ever felt, and I tilt my head back. The last of my breath leaves me in a high-pitched wail.

"Slow now, Isabella, slow. The head is out. With the next pain, you will push again, and his shoulders will be free. It will not be long now until you have your child in your arms."

I nod my agreement, but doubt lingers as the next pain builds. Again, I grit my teeth and push as the women beside me whisper their words of encouragement.

The midwife crouches low, her hands poised to catch. With a guttural cry and one final grunt, the pressure releases, and I collapse in the arms of my friend and sister. My eyes close, and my weary body sags in their hold. A mere moment later, the lusty cry of my child fills the room.

I open my eyes and am met with a breathtaking sight.

The midwife stands with a smile on her face, a small, wriggling bundle in her hands. "Your son, Your Highness."

With trembling hands, I reach for him, and when he is finally in my arms, I am overtaken with emotion. Tears of joy stream down my cheeks, and I place a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "Hello, my son."

* * *

It takes no time at all for my bedchamber to be set to rights. The midwife and her attendants have removed all traces of the birth. All the bundles of soiled linens are gone, and a meal has been brought for me. The sun has set, and a fire has been lit to chase away the coolness of the evening, lest my son catch a chill. I lie abed with my child in my arms and soak up the splendor that is him.

His soft sighs and suckling sounds are almost my undoing, and I can feel my heart expanding in my chest. And even though the desire to close my eyes and sleep is powerful, I cannot stop myself from tracing his delicate features with the tip of my finger—his pouty lips, his button nose, and his round cheeks. I am struck speechless with his beauty. His hair shines in the firelight, and I know in the light of day it will resemble his father's bronze locks.

The king has been informed of the child's arrival, and I am told a formal announcement will be made at sunrise. He has yet to come and see the babe for himself. My only request has been that no messenger is sent to inform Edward. No matter how important, I do not wish for my news to be a distraction.

With my son cradled to my breast, I lie back against the pillows and close my eyes. Through the night, I wake at the sounds of my son. The midwife, one of her maids, or Angela is always there to assist me. My fatigue is bone-deep, but I care for my son with a smile on my face.

When I open my eyes at the sound of my son's soft cries, the morning sun shines through the window.

"Shh, shh. None of that." I try to quiet him as I untie the laces of my shift. It takes a moment to settle him at my breast, but soon enough he is latched on, and I settle back into my bed. I sit and watch him, not looking up when my bedchamber door opens.

"Good morning, My Lady," Angela says as she places my meal on a side table. "The king is just about to make the announcement. We should be hearing the herald's horn any moment." She moves toward the window and pulls it open. And as if on cue, the sounds of the herald's horn blares in the quiet of the morning.

A smile graces my face, knowing how happy the news of an heir will make all of Galon. But before I can think too much on it, the sounds of the horns becomes disjointed before ceasing altogether.

"What—"

"I will go find out." Angela excuses herself and slips from my room.

It is not until much later, after my son is fed and changed, that Angela returns. And when she does, she stumbles through the doorway, out of breath as if she ran the entire way.

"What is it?" I ask, holding my son close.

"A lone rider has returned from the battlefield, My Lady."

My first thought is that the battle must be over, a vision of introducing my husband to our son fills my mind, but then I take in her expression—her face pale, her eyes glassy.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

"They've sent out the call to close the castle gates and organize the men." She swallows hard, and when her worried eyes meet mine, dread fills my gut. "Rhema is approaching from the west."

* * *

**A/N: So, on the plus side, you only have to wait a few days for the next one. I'd love to hear your thoughts, even if they're to yell at me! And while I've already chosen a name for the little one, I would also love to hear your suggestions on what they should name the young prince. **

**Recs this week ... **

**If you like kings, queens, knights, and fair maidens, which you obviously do, ;) check out Thrice Betrothed by Fyrebyrd. Summary: What happens when a small sacrifice for your country becomes the greatest sacrifice you will ever make.**

**And a current WIP I'm itching to get back to is Roadies by xXTailoredDreamsXx. Summary: Edward Cullen is the newest stage manager on his first major tour. He's out to prove he's earned his title, as well as the respect that comes with it. Bella Swan is the only woman on the crew, and she knows better than to believe Cullen didn't sleep his way to the top in order to get the job she feels was rightfully hers. Will they be able to co-exist without killing each other?**

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	28. Chapter 27

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing, even though she was under the weather this week. She's a rockstar. Please remember, I like to fiddle, so all mistakes are mine.**

Previously ...

"_What is it? Is something wrong?"_

"_They've sent out the call to close the castle gates and organize the men." Angela swallows hard, and when her worried eyes meet mine, dread fills my gut. "Rhema is approaching from the west."_

* * *

**Chapter 27**

With my chamber windows facing the west, I have a bird's-eye view of the first of Aro's men to reach the far edge of the city. The sheer number of them is intimidating, and an icy shiver races down my spine.

With the sun setting behind them, their lit torches illuminate their hulking forms, even at such a distance. They move as one, a dark mass of warriors here to destroy us, and it takes everything within me not to cry.

"There is no reason to be fearful, Isabella." The queen's voice startles me, and I turn to face her.

"Your Majesty. I did not hear you come in."

"No need, child." She turns her full attention my son. Wide-eyed and alert, he is cradled in my arms. "I only wanted to come and see my grandson." She looks up at me, a smile on her face. "Have you chosen a name?"

I shake my head. "I wish to wait until Edward returns," I say softly.

She opens her mouth as if to speak, but closes it, nodding her head instead. She reaches to touch the baby's tiny closed fist before settling into the chair before the hearth. "I am certain that will mean a great deal to my son."

I nod once and turn back to the window. The dark mass of soldiers approaching the outlying village has nearly doubled in size. "There are so many of them." I kiss my son's head, breathing in his sweet smell to calm myself.

"Do not forget there are many of us as well." The rustling of the queen's skirts can be heard as she rises and steps toward me. Her hands come to rest on my shoulders. "We are safe," she says softly. "Our men are prepared. Whenever Rhema makes their move, we will be ready."

"But are we truly ready?" I turn to face her. "This is not like when Galon came to Adwen. I do not think Aro wishes to broker peace. He is here to take the city, to seize the castle."

"And he will fail," she insists. "Do not doubt the men who fight for us."

I look back to the window. "I only wish I knew where Edward was," I admit, my voice low. "Why has he not returned?"

Her expression—a sad smile and tearful eyes—tell me she knows.

"What is it?" I turn to face her fully. "Please tell me," I beg, reaching for one of her hands.

"Carlisle believes the army approaching from the south was merely a distraction, a way to draw away our strongest men. He thinks Aro is not with them at all, that he is leading the charge on Masenthorne."

My eyes widen. "But Edward is—"

Sensing my sudden distress, my son begins to cry. I shift him to my shoulder and bounce him gently, whispering soothing words in an attempt to calm him.

"Do not worry, child," Esme says over the soft cries of her grandson. She holds my cheek in her hand and places her other hand on the babe's back. "We must have faith he and his men will prevail, whatever they face, and that they will soon return."

Still comforting my son, I turn back to the window, watching as the invading army forms a line around the crest of the hill. They stand still, their presence menacing, until suddenly, the riders carrying torches break off, heading toward the outlying city. One by one, their torches soar through the sky, landing on thatched roofs, which catch fire on contact. Other riders break formation and begin dismantling the homes of the villagers. Watching the timbers go up in flames, the burning ash rising into the night sky, so too does my faith that we will all survive this siege.

My son nuzzles into my neck. His tiny hands grip the fabric of my dress as he snuffles and hiccups, his crying finally coming to an end. I hold him more tightly. "I fear faith is hard to come by at the moment," I whisper.

* * *

The sun rises and sets many times, and with each setting sun, more buildings are burned. I can only watch helplessly from my window. In the days since Rhema's army has arrived, half of the outlying village has turned to a smoking pile of rubble, and the other half has been claimed as residence for their men. They seem in no rush to attack, instead choosing to taunt us with their mere presence, their wake of destruction growing closer each day. I am constantly reassured we are safe, that the Rheman soldiers cannot harm us from their position, but it does nothing to lessen my fears.

A fortnight passes before a messenger is sent from the visiting army, requesting a meeting between King Carlisle and King Aro. A meeting is granted, but on Galon's terms, and the castle is a swarm of activity as the king and his men prepare for the meeting.

Instead of watching from the safety I find inside the castle, I am asked to accompany the queen to stand beside the king, to show Rhema we will not bow to their tactics—that we are not afraid. Meanwhile, I am terrified to step foot outside the walls of the keep.

"I do not understand why my presence or the presence of my son is necessary." My eyes meet those of the queen in my looking glass as Angela braids my hair.

"The king is only as strong as the family behind him. Aro does not know there has been a son born to Edward, that our family line carries on. Having you and the child there will show Aro we are strong, our army aside. Carlisle also wishes to show Aro he is not afraid."

"But _I_ am afraid," I whisper.

The queen grasps my hand. "We must put aside our fears and show our king our support. Now is the time to do what we must for our people."

When my circlet is placed upon my head, I am deemed ready to stand beside the king and queen. Angela follows behind us, my son cradled to her chest, and I prepare myself to meet the enemy.

We walk in a small procession up the staircase leading to the walkway over the portcullis, overlooking the half-charred city outside the castle walls. Carlisle leads us, stopping to stand in the center, and Esme, myself, and Emmett stand in a line to his right. Jasper and two more of his advisors are on his left side. I do not look behind me where Angela stands holding my child tightly in her arms, but I am sure she is wide-eyed and as nervous as I am. There is no one I trust more than my friend to do this for me, though.

The group of riders at our gates all sit atop magnificent horses, large and bred for war. They are meant to be imposing, but from our elevated position, they appear small, insignificant.

Leading the group is a white horse, its rider pale and dark; his almost sallow complexion is a stark contrast to his raven-black hair. He's dressed in flowing robes, and a baldric stitched with the Rheman crest is stretched across his chest. A crown sits upon his head, and he's flanked by six of his own men. I know without a doubt this is Aro Volturi.

I look out over the horizon, quickly counting the men I can see, and guessing at how many I cannot. Those taking shelter in the houses in the city could number in the hundreds, and adding to the men I can see, I know we may be facing nearly a thousand men.

A silent stillness falls over those assembled as the riders travel the final distance to reach the castle walls, and I take a deep breath and focus all of my attention on the enemy before us.

"King Carlisle Cullen of Galon!" Aro shouts. "It has been too long, my friend." His sneer is unmistakable.

"Not long enough," Carlisle replies. "And we are not friends. There is nothing for you in Galon, Aro. You should go back and enjoy your triumph over Adwen. You will not find such an easy victory here."

Aro laughs, and the sound causes me to wince. "Easy?" he scoffs. "I did not come all this way for easy, Carlisle. Surely you know me better than that. No, I've come all this way for blood." His head turns, appraising those of us standing alongside the king, and his eyes fall on me. "And we all know there are spoils of war when the blood has all spilled." His gaze travels past me, falling on my son. He turns back to Carlisle. "It appears there is a new member of your household. Shall I have the pleasure of being introduced?"

"My son and his bride have welcomed a son, which is more than your own blood has done, is it not? Oh, wait. Your daughter bore a bastard, did she not? She couldn't be bothered to keep herself for my son. Remember, you had your chance to join with us, but your daughter destroyed any hope of that."

"My daughter is no longer my problem. The Gods decided she was not fit to carry my family name. She is no longer of this world. And you may not have heard Marcus has just wed his own bride. The beautiful Jane Swan of Adwen. We do hope for news to come soon of an heir. But you know as well as I do these things take time. And what better gift I could give them to celebrate than their own lands? After all, someone will need to oversee Adwen when I take up residence full time in Masenthorne here in Galon."

Carlisle does not reply; he simply stares down at Aro and his men, giving away nothing.

"We have surrounded your city, Carlisle," Aro says exasperatedly. "We have burned your people's homes and locked you inside your castle. You have no choice but to either bow to my demands or fight for your very freedom."

"I've yet to hear what your demands are."

Aro's smile is evil, and even at this distance, I can see the wicked gleam in his eyes. "Why, your throne of course. I did not come all this way to fight over the fields you've abandoned, although they will serve us well if this stalemate continues for very long."

"Go home, Aro. There is nothing for you here."

"So, you refuse your surrender?"

"The Cullen family will never surrender to you or to anyone else. Go home or you will pay dearly for your misjudgment."

Aro stares up at Carlisle, the afternoon sun illuminating his pale skin. "Then we will meet on the battlefield."

Carlisle does not react, remaining still and expressionless. "Very well." He stays still, his hands clasped behind his back, and waits for a very frustrated Aro to turn and trot away from the gate, his men following behind. When they are out of sight, the king turns and walks away.

It is over before it truly begins, and I follow behind the king and queen through the passageway to the lower level of the courtyard.

"That is all? That was the meeting?" I ask her quietly as we walk side by side.

She nods. "It was."

"But ... they did not _say_ anything of substance. I do not understand."

She grasps my hand as we step closer to the corridors leading inside. "It was a show, for both of them. Aro tried to bait the king, but Carlisle remained stoic. He did not allow Aro to rattle him. It was as much a game of wills and wit as it was a meeting to discuss terms." She turns to catch my confused eyes. "It went well, Isabella."

* * *

At the queen's invitation, the ladies of Masenthorne have taken to gathering in the women's room, our stitching clutched in our hands as the voices carry outside. Tensions are high, and I cannot concentrate on the task meant to distract me. And while the women around me all attempt to pretend everything is as it should be, I know it is not. Knowing it is not, my gifted crossbow is never far from me, hidden at the bottom of my basket beneath my son's blankets.

Galon's archers take shifts on Masenthorne's walls, and I grow more anxious as I watch Aro's men use the timbers from some of the destroyed homes to build strange looking catapults. Within a week, they rise from the ground like giants, their towering arms and pulleys strange and imposing.

"You should come away from there," the queen says softly. "It will do you no good to watch, Isabella. The sun is nearly set. And besides, if they strike, the guards will make sure we are safe."

"_If_ they strike," I whisper, making no move to step away from the window. I am fixated on our unwelcome guests, and I cannot look away. When the sun finally slips past the horizon, darkness envelopes the enemy, and I can see no more than the giant fires which have not burned out since they were set. Before I can turn away to return to my seat, movement on the far crest of the hill catches my attention.

A man carries a torch away from one of the many fires burning in the distance and toward one of the catapults. As my eyes scan the horizon, I catch sight of four other men doing the same. They each place the flaming torches to the load tied to the end of the giant slingshot. One man stands at the center and signals with his own torch, and like a perfectly choreographed dance, the long slings whip up and over the towering weapons, sending balls of fire flying through the night sky.

"Gods help us," I whisper, my hand spreading against the windowpane.

"What is—" The queen is now at my side, covering her mouth in horror.

As the first ball of fire sails over the castle walls, the order goes out for our soldiers to stand at the ready to fight. They fill the courtyard, arming themselves with their swords and shields. Some scurry around, putting out the fires now blazing on the roofs of the stable and church. Everyone is on high alert, ready to fight at a moment's notice, and I am rooted to my spot at my window, watching with fear in my heart as these men prepare to battle.

Several guards, including Jasper, enter the room at the sound of our cries.

"Where is Emmett?" Rosalie asks in a panic. "Where is my husband? I was told he was part of the king's guard. He should be here to protect his queen, his family."

Jasper steps forward, holding a hand out as if to calm Lady McCarty when her breaths become ragged. "The king has asked him to fight."

"But he—"

Chaos ensues behind me as Rosalie tries to flee the room. I stay where I am, watching Aro's soldiers advance toward the castle walls.

Galon's archers let loose their arrows, and a few of Rhema's men fall, but it is not enough. More rush toward the castle, and once they disappear from sight, I feel frustrated I can no longer see what is happening beyond the wall.

"Isabella, perhaps we should go, get to safer rooms." Angela's panicked voice reaches me, and I turn to her. Cradled in her arms is my sleeping son.

"No, our orders were to guard you," one of the guards says, replying to Angela from his place near the door. "Until we know more, it is best to remain here."

Murmurs fill the room, and unease spreads through us all. Looking back through the window, I see a chance to put to use the weapon my husband gave me. I step past Angela and crouch down to rummage through my basket, finding the bow at the bottom.

I stand and turn to her. "I can offer help from here."

"Isabella," Esme says from just behind my friend, "There is no need to put yourself in danger by hanging out of a window. The men out there have trained for this. They do not need you to defend us."

I shake my head. "No, they do not need me, but from this vantage, I may be able to see a danger before it has the opportunity to harm us. I must try."

"I still do not think it is a good idea," the queen says, the guards urging her to come away from the window. She turns to argue with them, reminding them to whom they are speaking.

As more confusion sets in, the women are distracted, arguing over the best course of action, whether they should remain or seek shelter elsewhere. I turn back to the window to watch as Rhema's men begin to make their way over the outer walls.

Standing inside the doorway is my husband's cousin and his wife. With their heads tilted together and their young son held between them, they share an all too brief moment. It appears so private, so intimate, I feel the need to look away. As touching as the scene is, it reminds me my husband is still out there, lost to me once again.

I inhale a deep breath and turn back to the window, peering outside. I push it open to see more clearly and to ready my own weapon. In the moments I was turned away, the opposing army has wheeled a battering ram toward Masenthorne. With a loud roar, the order is given, and Aro's men move as one, ramming into the outer gate, over and over.

"They are trying to force their way through."

Jasper steps to my side and peers over my shoulder. "The gate will hold, but I do not know for how long."

The scene below is overwhelming; small fires burn in various places in the outer courtyard, but none so far have actually reached the castle. The archers move faster than my eyes can keep up, as arrow after arrow is fired toward the men attempting to scale the outer wall. The armed soldiers in the outer courtyard are a vibrating mass of bodies, readying themselves for the fight. Even as far away as I am, I can feel their energy. I close my eyes and say a brief prayer that those who protect us will be protected. When I open my eyes and see the opposing army on the other side of the wall, I fear many of our men will fall, regardless of my petition to the Gods.

A break in the line of archers forms in the northern wall, and many of Rhema's men breach it, spilling over the top. With shaking hands, I load a bolt into my bow, and raise it. I close my eyes to try and quell some of my nervousness, and I remind myself that I have been told many times over how true my aim is.

I open my eyes and steady myself at the window, aim, and fire.

With a swiftness I did not expect, the man I set my sights on falls from the wall, the bolt having found purchase in his neck.

With a renewed confidence and Jasper's quiet encouragement, I reload and find another target. Man after man falls by my hand, and I feel a swell of pride in my ability to defend my home, to protect my protectors. As I ready my bow to take aim once more, a crashing, splintering sound like I have never heard comes from near the wall.

We watch in horror as Rhema's men begin to rush through the broken pieces of the outer gate. Met with Galon's armed soldiers and facing half of the archers who have turned their attention to the courtyard, Rhema's men fall almost as quickly as they charge through the breach. But it does not take long for the crack to widen and more and more of Aro's men to push their way through. I do what I can, aiming and firing my crossbow as swiftly as I can, but my supply of bolts begins to run low, and I know I need to be more selective in my targets.

I am rooted in my spot, watching as the men fight, their swords clanging and their arrows flying. The once green courtyard is now stained with the blood of our enemies ... and of our own countrymen. It is hard to see from where I stand who has the advantage, but I know the carnage is great.

A fresh wave of men rushes the walls, and Galon's soldiers are quickly overpowered, the vast numbers of sudden opponents too great.

"No," I whisper as I watch more and more of our men fall. "No, no, no." My free hand grips the ledge of the window as I lean out, tears now running down my cheeks. "It is not possible."

Needing to know how much more is to come for us, I look up, past the castle walls and into the darkness of the night. My heart sinks as I catch sight of yet another line of soldiers. The dark shadows on the hill tell me there is another wave of men ready to attack. My bow slips from my hand, and I fall to my knees, turning to rest my back against the cool stone wall. Knowing we are sorely outnumbered, I bury my face in my hands and cry.

Our fate is all but sealed.

Jasper crouches before me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It is all right, Isabella. You've done all you can."

I shake my head and raise it, my tearful eyes meeting his. I look around the room and am met with the concerned gazes of my family. I know that if this is to end badly, we will all suffer an unimaginable fate. And when my eyes fall on my son, a fresh wave of determination washes over me.

Our men fight for their lives, and for ours, but with the next wave of Aro's men nearing, it is only a matter of time before they are overcome. And when they are, the once serene halls of Masenthorne will fill with Rheman soldiers looking to take for themselves the spoils, and I cannot allow that to happen. At this moment, I decide if I am to perish this night, I would rather die fighting than die hiding. I do not wish to give up, to cower as I wait for our enemy to find us.

I push Jasper's hands aside and rise to my feet, wiping my eyes. With my bow in hand, I peer out the window. "I have not done all I can." I look over my shoulder at Jasper. "I still have a few more bolts to fire."

I watch as the same white stallion which approached our walls just weeks ago crosses through the now-widened hole in the outer gate. Saddled atop him is the pale rider who leads the destruction, his skin glowing white in the fires burning throughout the courtyard. Aro's appearance brings to mind the teachings from my homeland; stories of the four horsemen of the end of days, and the pale rider being death. This man, too, seems to be bringing death with him. He wields his broadsword, cutting down all who cross his path. He is here to destroy Galon and all who call Masenthorne home.

A loud commotion beyond the door gains the guards' attention. "Stay here," one of them orders.

With a shaking hand, I turn my attention back to my weapon and load one of my remaining bolts into the crossbow, placing the end at the floor to pull the mechanism back. Then I seek out my target. Still seated in his saddle, Aro is making his way through the line of Galon's soldiers and closer to the second gate. His men seem to have pushed their ram forward, and with little resistance, they are making quick work of the obstacle.

With no clear shot, I wait.

More and more of Rhema's men make it over the inner wall, and as the second wave of men riding from the hill closes in, my heart sinks. But as the battle cries coming from Aro's men grow louder with the dark mass of bodies approaching, they turn their attention to those now coming through the gate, and I realize two things at once.

Our men, the men who left here well over a month ago, have returned, and seated upon his own stallion, leading the charge, is my husband.

"Edward!" His name escapes me in a joyous cry as tears of relief fill my eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Tuesday isn't all that far away ... right? We're rapidly nearing the end, so hang on tight as we get there. It's gonna be a bumpy ride. Only two more to go before the epilogue, and they're action-packed. **

**Recs this week ...**

**I'm re-reading The Cannabean Betrothal by ItzMegan73 right now, and it's one of my favorites. Summary: Edward has immersed himself in the Cannabean way to ward off the hurt of a life-changing experience; but an unexpected betrothal teaches him how little he knows about life. **

**A WIP I need to get back to is My Stubborn Mate by krida86. Summary: Wolf-Shifter and Earth Witch, Bella Swan, moves with her father to Forks, Washington to join the "Midnight Sun" Wolf Pack. After almost 21 years of living in hiding in the human world, Bella struggles to find her place amongst the Pack. Will she ever find her place when so many are against her? And what will the strong connection she feels to the pack's Beta, Edward, evolve into?**

**There are a couple of contests going on right now. A Winterward Card Contest 2019 is happening exclusively on Facebook through 12/20, so go check out the group if you're interested. And TwiFandomNews is hosting a 911/First Responders Contest. There aren't any entries right now, but I'm hopeful some will post before it closes on 12/23. **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	29. Chapter 28

**Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember, I like to fiddle, so all mistakes are mine.**

**I posted a link in my Facebook group to a video on YouTube that features the catapults—or trebuchets—mentioned in last week's chapter. If you have the time, google "trebuchets in action" for a peek at what some of those giant contraptions were capable of. Seeing those launch fire in my direction would be kind of terrifying, I would think. **

**This is a rough chapter from start to finish, so buckle in. **

* * *

**Chapter 28**

The roar of the men as they pour through the gate is deafening. Their voices echo off the stone walls, and the clash of their swords when they strike the Rheman soldiers makes me shrink back from the open window. What looks like a hundred or more men fill the courtyard, some of them wielding sword and shield and others brandishing maces. There is no negotiation, no preamble to the attack, only unbridled violence against our enemy ... and I could not welcome it more. Swords and maces alike swing through the air, and one by one, our enemy begins to fall.

As Edward and his men advance, I lean farther out the window to get a better look. My eyes widen at the sight. If there ever was a time I thought the warriors from Galon to look like savages, it is nothing compared to how the returning men now look. Dirty and vicious, their eyes focused and filled with hatred, the men look as though they could defeat a bear with their bare hands.

They are here not to defeat, but to _destroy_.

Along with the sound of clashing metal, the cries and grunts of men fill the night air. My eyes move rapidly, taking everything in. In a fight for their lives, Galon's soldiers are merciless. The line of men near the innermost wall, led valiantly by Emmett, sees their fellow countrymen, and with a strength they've not yet shown, they press forward, fighting with a renewed vigor.

My husband's cousin swings his sword, slicing a path through the wall of Rheman soldiers as if they are mere weeds to be cut down. Edward's return seems to have given him a fresh determination.

As Galon's soldiers press forward, Aro's men reek of desperation before digging in and fighting with a renewed vigor of their own. But at Emmett's order, they are held back, the inner walls of Masenthorne yet to be breached.

"Our men are holding them back." Rosalie's hopeful voice comes from over my shoulder.

I reach back to take her hand. "They are."

Searching the crowd, I find my husband. Using his legs, Edward commands the beast beneath him, and he moves deftly through the melee, swinging his broadsword at any who dare challenge him. With the determination of ten men, Edward sometimes takes on two men at a time, one with his sword and the other with his shield, bashing their skulls and moving forward.

Everywhere I look, men fight to protect this land, and some fall doing it. The arc of soldiers widens as more of Galon's men battle against their foe, and as more men fall, the gained ground behind them grows red with blood.

When I bring my attention back to the battle raging below, the victory which seemed hopeless only moments before Edward appeared is now within Galon's grasp. With our line of soldiers still fighting from their position at the inner wall and our returning men fighting from the outer wall, Rhema's soldiers are caught in the middle, helpless against those who fight to defend their home.

In the center of the chaos, Aro is still atop his white horse. His head whips from side to side, only now appearing to realize that he is losing ground, that his men are being slaughtered. I see the moment his eyes fall on Edward, for he kicks away the man he's just run through with his sword and changes direction, moving straight toward my husband.

Gasps fill the room behind me, but I do not lose focus. With my eyes flashing between the two men, I keep my bow at the ready. And when Aro charges him at a full gallop, cutting down any in his path, I raise my weapon. Edward is quick to react, too, raising his own broadsword. When their steel clashes, I cannot tear my eyes away from them. The strike is so powerful, they are both knocked from their saddles. They push off the ground, returning to their fight. They move so swiftly it is difficult to see where one of them begins and the other ends. With my blood rushing in my ears, I wait with my bow raised but not aimed. It is a battle of wills, both of them struggling to overpower the other.

What I do not expect is for another Rheman soldier to attack from Edward's back. He swings his sword, but misses, gaining Edward's attention and distracting him from Aro's attack. Edward turns away for only a moment, slicing through his attacker's belly, bringing him to his knees, but his distraction is all Aro needs. He lifts his sword over his head to bring it down on my husband.

The queen and Alice cry out, both of them presumably watching from another window when I seize my opportunity. In the blink of an eye, I lift my bow, aim and fire, sending the bolt whistling through the night sky.

My aim is true, and my bolt finds its way through his chainmail and into his chest, Aro loses the grip on his sword, and his blade tumbles to the ground behind him. He drops to his knees and falls onto his back, lying in the bloodied mud and staring blankly into the sky. With men falling to the right and left of him, he is still. Searching for his savior, Edward's head whips around, and for a brief moment, our eyes meet.

But with the battle still raging, he returns to the fight, his sword cutting through all who dare to challenge him. Knowing he is here, he is alive, and our salvation is near, I feel I can finally breathe.

The chamber door bangs open, and a group of guards marches through. It takes only a moment to realize these are not the guards who were stationed outside. No, these are Rheman soldiers, and all of them enter the room with their swords drawn. The other women scream, scrambling away from them and huddling together in the corner, Jasper doing his best to hover over them protectively. Poor Emily hides behind her mother's skirts, and my heart breaks that she is subjected to this.

Frightened to the point of being unable to move, I stay rooted in my spot near the window. I also realize quickly that any attempt to fire my crossbow at them would be in vain. Even if I were to bring down one of them, any of the others would kill me before I lowered my weapon. But I quickly shove the bolt held tightly in my hand into a pocket in my dress. If nothing else, it is sharp and easy to conceal.

One of the men looks over the room, and his eyes light up when they fall on the queen. While most of us are in modest dresses, looking much like the peasants wandering the lower halls of Masenthorne, Esme wears her crown. "It would appear that we've found the castle's hidden treasures," he says as he walks toward Esme. He uses the tip of his sword to lift the edge of her skirts, taunting her.

One of the others speaks up from the doorway. "Let's get on with it. You know our orders were to bring anyone we found to the throne room."

He huffs a breath. "I only wanted to have a bit of fun," he mumbles petulantly.

The men stalk forward, deciding where to begin when, as if on instinct, Jasper stands and grabs for his own weapon. He raises it, but his sword arm is still so very weak, the tremor in his arm as he tries to hold his sword evident. "I suggest you leave the women alone."

"Oh!" One of the men chuckles as he practically skips toward Jasper. "We may have a fight on our hands, lads."

With all the strength he can muster, Jasper swings his blade with a grunt, but it falls short of its target, the momentum bringing his arm down heavily and his sword falling to the ground.

With no warning, the Rheman soldier smashes the hilt of his sword against Jasper's head, sending him tumbling back, falling back into his chair.

Alice screams, rising from her spot near the corner, but she is snatched up by one of the other men. She fights against his hold, flailing in his arms to get to her husband. The one who injured Jasper pulls a dagger from his boot and moves to hold it to Jasper's neck.

"I wouldn't do that," one of them warns.

"And why not?"

"He looks an awful lot like the one who helped Cullen escape. I'd recognize that light hair anywhere. The Commander is going to want to deal with that one himself."

The man holding the dagger considers it for a moment before sliding it back into his boot. "Fine, but he comes with us. They'll want to question him"—he makes eye contact with Alice, grinning—"or cut off his head." Alice shrieks, but he continues. "Either way, we can't leave him here." He looks at the rest of us and back to the other men. "Tie their hands if you have to, but we need to move them all. It won't be long before they realize we're here."

My eyes flash to Angela's, and I know her wide-eyed, tearful expression must match mine. But there is also a question in her gaze, and I know she is asking about my son held in her arms. I discreetly shake my head. There is no reason to alert these men to who he is, how important he is, not only to me but also to the land of Galon.

Esme stands and inhales deeply, looking into the eyes of the man who seems to be in charge. "Take me." The waver in her voice belies the confidence of her stance. "No one else in this room is of any importance. They are merely my ladies in waiting. They will earn you no commendation from your commander. Leave them here."

My heart begins to beat furiously as the man looks each of us over, scrutinizing us. His eyes land on my hand, and they seem to twinkle with glee when they spot my ring. He turns to the queen. "Ladies in waiting, huh? We'll just see about that." He stalks toward me and grabs my arm, my bow falling from my hands and clattering to the floor. "They all go," he shouts as he drags me from the room.

The walk to the throne room is long and winding, all of us clinging to one another as we're prodded along by the men. When we finally reach the door leading to the throne room, voices carry out into the corridor. As we step inside, all my breath leaves me in a whoosh.

Seated on the throne is a man I never dreamed I would see again.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" Jacob Black rises from the throne and stalks toward us, his appraising eye taking in the lot of us. "A queen," he says, looking at Esme, "a few ladies," he says, looking at Alice, Rosalie, and Angela, "and a princess," he says as his eyes fall on me. He looks over my shoulder. "And who is that?" he asks, pointing at Jasper, who happens to be thrown over the shoulder of one of the men.

"He was with them, My Lord. Thought he might be important. Looks a bit like the one who helped Cullen escape, too."

"Just toss him in the corner," Jacob says with a dismissive hand as his gaze falls back to me. "I am much more interested in our other guests." Even as he speaks, he does not turn away from me, and a sick feeling begins to gnaw at my insides.

"What do you want us to do with them?" one of the men asks.

"Take the queen to the cells below the castle." He turns to the soldier. "Wouldn't want her to get away before Aro has a chance to see what I've found for him."

"Aro is dead!" I shout defiantly. All the rage and anger I have for this man boils inside me, and I lunge toward Jacob. At my outburst, one of the men steps forward and restrains me, holding my arms behind my back.

All the men's heads snap to look at me. "Aro is not dead!" one of them shouts.

"He is," I insist. "I watched from my window as he fell."

"And you expect me to take your word for it?" Jacob scoffs, turning to the soldier. "Take the queen to a cell but leave the others."

Emily, who has stayed hidden in her mother's skirts, begins to cry in earnest, which upsets Jameson, and in turn, my son. In no time at all, the three of them are wailing. Angela does her best to soothe him, but it is of no use.

As my son's cries grow louder, Jacob turns. His eyes widen as they fall on Angela, and I see on his face the moment realization dawns on him. "You!" he bellows, pointing at my friend. "You were her handmaiden in Adwen."

Angela's own eyes are wide and terrified, but she remains silent.

When Jacob's sharp gaze turns to my son, fear for what he may do fills my very bones.

"Then this must be your son," Jacob says, turning back to me. "An heir to Galon's throne." His voice is low, threatening.

"Please, I beg of you. Do not hurt him."

"That is for Aro to decide." He turns to his men. "Take the brats with the queen as well. I cannot hear myself think with all that noise," Jacob says before the man can walk away with Esme.

"No! Take me, please! He needs his mother!" I fight against the hands holding me, only to be held tighter.

Jacob turns back to me, an evil grin on his face. "Aro will be happy to have not only the queen, but the next heir to Galon's throne as well. Perhaps he will wish to have a public execution," he taunts.

"No!" I scream. As my child's cries grow louder, I close my eyes. Tears stream down my cheeks at my inability to go to him, to comfort him.

"Silence them or I will do it for you," Jacob roars.

My eyes fly open, and I watch in horror as one of the men rips Jameson from Alice's arms. My sister tries to keep hold of him, but the guard is too strong.

"Give him to me!" Esme demands. "Both of them if you insist on taking them from their mothers."

Jacob waves another hand, growing irritated with the exchange. "I do not care. Take them all. Just get them out of my sight."

As the queen is dragged from the room with Jameson in her arms, one of the men snatches Angela by the arm and pulls her along with them, grabbing Emily as he passes her.

Their screams and cries fade as they get farther from the room. I say a silent prayer that my son is safe with his grandmother and my friend.

"Does hearing your son's cries for you hurt, My Lady?" Jacob comes closer, a predatory gleam in his eye. As he nears, his gaze travels over my body. "Maybe Aro will grant me a reward—you for the screaming runt." His eyes meet mine. "Seems a fair trade."

I struggle to get away from the man holding me, but it is useless. He places a meaty hand on my forehead, forcing my head back against his chest. As I look up into the eyes of the man who has stolen so much from me, I have only one wish: To see his blood spilled.

"What do you want us to do with the women?" the man holding me asks.

Before Jacob can reply, another of the men shouts, "Shouldn't we be searching for the king, and not wasting our time on the queen and some useless cunts?"

"Have you any idea who she is?" Jacob turns and asks.

"We thought she might be important, what with that bauble on her finger and being with the queen and all," he says proudly.

The man who had a hand in Aro's victory over Adwen, the man who is in part responsible for my father's death, is now so close I can smell him. I vibrate with rage. It is his fault this battle was brought to our lands. It is his fault so many of our men lie bleeding and dying in the mud.

"This is the little wench who got away," Jacob continues, oblivious to my thoughts. "This is the woman who was sold off to Galon for a port and some grain. _This_, my friends, is _Princess_ Isabella, the wife of the very man whom I've made sure will not be returning home." He leans close, his nose trailing up the column of my neck as he inhales. "How does it feel to be a widow?" he whispers into my ear.

"He is not dead," I say through gritted teeth. I struggle, but it is to no avail; the man holding me is far too strong.

Jacob's dark chuckle turns the blood in my veins to ice. "I saw to it myself," he taunts. "I have a secret to tell you." He leans closer, his lips a mere breath away from my ear. "I came up with the perfect plan. And Aro drank it from the palm of my hand like the sweetest wine. I sent a few hundred of Aro's best soldiers, led by his son, Marcus. He was to come from the south, allow his men to be seen, and send Galon's best chasing after them. And I knew they would. They were going to lead Galon's men down into a ravine, and when they were all lined up like pigs in a pen, Marcus would attack. It was like handing a victory to the Rheman prince on a silver platter." His evil eyes once again meet mine. "And now I will claim one of my many rewards. The lands in Adwen I've been given will be that much sweeter when I have you with me to warm my bed."

"I would rather die," I growl indignantly, continuing to fight against my captor.

"Do you really think you have any other choice?"

"I refuse to surrender! You will not win. Our men will find you, Jacob, and when they do, they will kill you. You are a traitor. My father is dead because of you!"

"Your father is dead because he was a terrible king! He nearly killed his people in his greed and ignorance. The world is better for him not being in it."

I tilt my head back against the man holding me and jerk it forward, spitting straight into Jacob's eye. "My husband is not dead, and he will kill you when he finds you."

He slowly wipes my spittle from his face before lashing out. The sting burns through my flesh when he strikes me, and as I drag my tongue across my lip, I taste the sharp tang of blood.

"If he is, then let him try."

No sooner than the words leave Jacob's lips, a shout can be heard coming from the corridor outside the throne room. Every Rheman soldier in the room readies their sword, save the one holding me.

It all happens so quickly.

Emmett rounds the corner, his sword in hand and ready to strike, but with a single blade to his gut he is run through by the coward lying in wait at the door, the same man who held a dagger over Jasper.

All my breath leaves my body, and his name escapes Rosalie in a strangled scream. "Emmett!" Her wail of despair echoes off the walls, Alice's cry nearly as loud for her cousin.

As Emmett falls to his knees, Jacob—with hatred in his dark eyes—steps behind him, grasping him by a tuft of hair at the crown of his head. His blade is quick but sure, making a single pass across Emmett's throat.

The cry that escapes Rosalie as she struggles against her captors, desperate to reach her husband, is the sound of a heart breaking. Her anguish is so sorrowful, so painful, it cuts through me like a shard of ice through my gut. My heart thrashes in my chest, and my mouth goes dry, blood rushing in my ears as I watch my friend, my protector, fall to the floor. As he does, Rosalie gives up her fight, finally collapsing in a sobbing heap at the soldier's feet.

Jacob's black eyes, much like his soul must be, bore into mine as he sheaths his sword and steps over Emmett's still form. "Now, tell me again how it is your husband plans to kill me," he asks me over my sobs. "If I remember correctly, he said something similar when I had him strapped to a rack in the bowels of Broadcove. If he is alive as you say he is, I will quite enjoy doing what I'd planned to do before he escaped—killing him myself."

With every bit of courage I possess, I stare into the eyes of this monster and speak through gritted teeth. "He will kill you, and if he fails, I will kill you myself."

With both hands, he pulls me away from the man holding me. He lifts me up off the floor, my feet dangling, and he is so close his nose nearly brushes mine. His breath is foul, and my stomach turns. "Not if I end you first, _Princess_."

Suddenly, he releases me, and I fall to my knees, my hands coming to rest in the dark red puddle surrounding Emmett. Unable to look at my friend, my kin, I turn away, my sobs growing louder.

"Stop your sniveling. Who was he, your personal guard?" he asks mockingly. "Did he take care of you all the months your husband was away? Did he bed you? Is that why—"

I rise up on my knees and straighten my back. "No, you monster!" I yell. "He was my friend, my family! He was a good man."

"There are no good men, Isabella. Do not delude yourself. Men only do what is best for themselves, to further their own interests. To say otherwise is foolish."

"You're wrong," I say with a hiccuping sob as I wipe the tears and snot from my face with the back of my hand. "There are good men in this world." I look over to Emmett's still form. "Men who would die protecting those they love." I return my narrowed eyes to Jacob. "Men with honor. Something which you would not recognize if it were to slap you across the face."

He steps closer, and I shrink back. Jacob bends at the waist and narrows his own eyes. "Honorable men rarely gain riches and lands, Isabella. Honorable men rarely attain beautiful women and titles. Those things are only for men strong enough to _take_ them, strong enough to make those things happen. And I have grown tired of doing the right thing, the _honorable_ thing. No, it is time for me to _take_ what I want."

With a swiftness I am not expecting, he grabs me by my arms and crashes his mouth to mine. His grip on me is unyielding, and I am frozen in shock. When I return to my senses, I struggle against his hold, opening my mouth to scream, still trying to pull away, but he forces his tongue inside. Reflexively, I bite down.

I'm thrown to the ground as he covers his now-bleeding mouth with both hands. "You whore!" His words are muffled, but his meaning is clear. Dropping his hands, he advances toward me. "You will pay for that!"

I try to scurry away on my hands and knees, but he reaches for me, grabbing me by the hair. He yanks my head back and speaks lowly into my ear. "I am going to enjoy hearing you scream."

He releases me and pushes me away, my face nearly slamming into the stone floor. I push back and rise onto my hands and knees, finding myself once again in the pool of Emmett's blood. I try to crawl away, but the unmistakable sound of his sword being drawn causes my already pounding heart to nearly stop altogether, and I freeze.

As more voices and the familiar sounds of clashing steel can be heard coming from outside the room, I crawl toward them, praying it is more of Galon's soldiers. And as quickly as the group of soldiers turns the corner, I am wrenched from the floor and held to Jacob Black's chest, his blade now poised at my throat.

* * *

**A/N: *peeks over screen* Is it safe to come out? Yeah, that was rough. I'm hoping Isabella's shot at Aro softened the heartache in this chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one. Only one more to go before the epilogue. **

**Recs this week ... **

**I'm hoping to get caught up on MeteorOnAMoonlessNight's Ember Sword this week. It's a badass Bella of olde, and if you're enjoying DoMH, it should be right up your alley. ;) Summary: The Prophecy of The First Blood declares the Ember Sword shall be in the care of The True-Sworn for eternity—which is how long the clan will live if they can keep the enchanted sword out of the hands of The Forsaken. With the enemy bearing down on them, the chieftess and her daughters must prepare for the coming battle.**

**And an oldie but a goodie is A Hope Renewed by Hopesparkles. Summary: A misunderstanding leads to a forced marriage between Bella who is caring for her ailing father after losing their home, and Edward who has recently inherited his uncle's estate and has no intention of taking a wife. **

**And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon! **

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine**


	30. Chapter 29

**We've come to the final regular chapter. It's been a winding road to get to this point, and this story wouldn't be what it is without the help of some very special ladies. Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember, I like to fiddle—and BOY did I fiddle with this one—so all mistakes are mine.**

Previously ...

_As more voices and the familiar sounds of clashing steel can be heard coming from outside the room, I crawl toward them, praying it is more of Galon_'_s soldiers. And as quickly as the group of soldiers turn the corner, I am wrenched from the floor and spun around, held to Jacob Black_'_s chest, his blade now poised at my throat._

* * *

**Chapter 29 **

I am too terrified to move—to even breathe—as I stand stock-still in Jacob's too-tight clutches, and yet, a strangled gasp leaves me when Edward and his men pour into the room. Swinging their blood-stained swords, there is no hesitance as they cut down the men nearest the door.

Seeing some of his men fall and others step forward to fight, Jacob pulls me backward, farther into the dark shadows of the throne room. The movement catches the eye of my husband, and when his gaze falls on me—then on the man holding a blade to my throat—it is filled with a murderous fury the likes of which I've never seen.

Edward charges toward us, his sword slicing through any standing in his way. As one of the Rheman soldiers raises his own weapon, my husband strikes first, bringing his blade down so forcefully, it nearly cuts the man in half. Blood sprays from the wound, much of it landing on Edward, but he does not stop. Turning to the next man to approach, Edward drives his blade through the man's stomach, rendering him motionless. With gritted teeth and an angry grunt, my husband raises his booted foot and kicks, pulling his bloodied blade from the man. More blood spills onto the floor as the nameless soldier falls to his knees, finally collapsing at Edward's feet. As his men take on the rest, he turns his attention to me and my captor, stalking toward us.

"Do not come any closer! I will not hesitate to slit her throat," Jacob threatens. His rapid breaths are loud in my ear as he holds me more tightly to him. Jacob's head rapidly turns from side to side, likely realizing that he and his remaining men are outnumbered.

Edward's movements cease. His men also come to a halt, lowering their swords as a few more of the Rheman guards fall. My pleading eyes meet those of my husband. They are wild, frantic as he looks me over. He and his men stand with their faces and bodies covered in blood and sweat and mud, their chests heaving.

Edward takes one careful step toward me, his gaze flashing to Jacob.

Jacob once again shouts, "I said stop!"

"You have my wife," Edward growls as he nears, his jaw tight and his eyes narrowing. "I told you I would kill you, Black, and here you are, giving me even more of a reason to gut you like the filthy animal you are." Edward slowly stalks closer to us, his eyes only flashing to mine before returning to Jacob.

"And how do you propose to do that? Once again, I am the one with the advantage. Seems all too familiar, does it not, _Your Highness_? Only this time it is not you who is within my grasp but your useless prize." He shakes me with the hand not holding his sword, causing the edge of his blade to cut into the delicate skin of my neck. A warm trail trickles from the cut, stopping only as it reaches the top of my dress. "Tell me where your coward of a father is hiding and perhaps I will not slit her throat!" Jacob's voice booms across the room.

"Threatening my wife will not grant you an audience with the king, Black."

"I beg to differ. If she is so valued, so esteemed in your eyes, surely her life is enough with which to barter. But if you do not feel she is worth it, then perhaps we will see which pieces of her I can remove before you deem her completely unworthy of even being your wife."

"You will not harm so much as a hair upon her head, Black." Edward's tone is forceful, but there is a desperate edge to his words as he moves closer. My heart pounds violently as he nears. I am torn between yearning for the safety of his arms and fearing for his life if he were to engage the monster holding me. "And the only one removing anything will be me," Edward continues. "I'll be the one to remove your head from your body, removing your black soul from this plane of existence."

Jacob chuckles darkly in my ear. "Oh, I have my doubts I will leave this room alive, but the question is"—he presses the edge of his blade against my throat with intent—"will she?"

Edward grips the hilt of his sword more tightly, his eyes never leaving Jacob, and panic swells inside me. It is only a matter of time before one of them makes a move. My hands move to my skirts, holding onto them as if they will keep me tethered in place. As I do, the pointed, stiff object hidden in my pocket reveals itself. I grasp the bolt through the fabric as Jacob continues to speak. When his sword nicks at my skin once more, I grip the short arrow tighter still and force it back into his thigh with every bit of strength I have. He stumbles back, caught off guard by the sudden pain he must be feeling, and with the bolt still tangled in my skirts, I am pulled down with him. With all the determination I possess, I pull at my skirts until the shaft of the bolt tears through the layers of fabric, leaving me free to scurry away from Jacob.

It is all the opportunity Edward and his men need.

He raises his sword, and in the blink of an eye, the room explodes in a whirl. Blades and maces fly through the air as Edward's men attack and the Rheman soldiers try to defend themselves. As Peter charges toward the portly soldier who ran a blade through my beloved friend, Rosalie seizes her own opportunity. Crawling on her hands and knees, she moves with purpose toward the men locked in battle, stopping only to pull the sword from the hand of a fallen man. Staggering to her feet, she grips the handle of the blade with both hands and waits. When the Rheman soldier turns and catches sight of her, Rosalie draws back her blade. With a battle cry of her own—full of grief and pain and despair— she plunges it into the man's chest, straight through his heart. She stumbles back and once again falls to her knees, giving Peter the opening he needs to run the man through.

Edward brings his own sword back, swinging it wide and sure, slicing through Jacob's arm before he can raise his own weapon. Blood pours from the wound, and yet Jacob still fights. With grunts and groans, both men struggle, one for his victory and the other for his life.

With another swing of his sword, Edwards cuts through Jacob's middle, gutting him as he promised. The cries of the dying echo against the stone walls and the sight of all the men who have fallen prove to be too much. Overwhelmed by the bloodshed surrounding me, I squeeze my eyes shut tightly. The stench of death invades my nostrils, and I swallow down the bile creeping up my throat.

Despite hearing the screams of my friend and sister, I cannot open my eyes to see for myself if they are well. Their cries are hollow in my ears, distorted and distant, although I know they are nearby. Frozen where I am, I cannot help them, cannot comfort them, I can only pray they are unharmed.

I hear a muted thump before a clanging of steel against the stone floor next to me. The jarring sounds break through the haze of my mind, bringing me back to full awareness. I look up and find my husband staring down at me, and his eyes are filled with sorrow and pain. He falls to his knees, and I scramble to his side, wrapping my arms around him, and he embraces me in return.

"Are you well?" he asks, wiping the trickle of blood from my neck and frantically searching the rest of my body for injuries. When his hands move over my obviously smaller midsection, his eyes widen. "The child? Where is—"

"With your mother and Angela." I sniffle and wipe at my eyes. "I believe they were all taken to the dungeons." I shake my head, looking around the room. My eyes fall on Jacob Black's headless body. "It was a blessing they were not here to see all this." My gaze shifts to Emmett's still form, his weeping wife hovering over him, and more tears stream down my cheeks.

"I am so sorry, Isabella. He was supposed to wait for us, but he was frantic to get to his family. I am so sorry I was not here to—"

"Shh." I try to reassure him, but I am lost to my own grief. My tears come in earnest now, and sobs of devastation wrack my body as I take in the carnage surrounding us.

Surrounded by death and destruction, we cling to one another. The shouts of men echo through the halls of Masenthorne, and I have to wonder how much more we can endure.

"Is it over?" I ask, pulling back to look up into his eyes. "Tell me it is over."

He nods, smoothing a hand over my head and wiping the tears from my cheeks. He places a gentle kiss to my lips and rests his forehead to mine. "It is over. My father is outside the keep right now, commanding his soldiers. All of Aro's men are either dead or have surrendered. Jacob and the men who were able to get inside were the last who were unaccounted for." He kisses me once more, murmuring against my lips. "It is over."

He holds me tightly, and I continue to cling to him. Listening to Rosalie's wails of grief as she hovers over her husband's body, I close my eyes and pray. I pray for the souls of the lost, and I say a prayer of thanks, for my beloved is alive and in my arms.

* * *

The throne room is now all but empty. Edward and a few his men have returned to their king's side to see to what remains of the enemy. The Rheman soldiers who were slain in this very room have been dragged out, leaving behind a blood-stained stone floor. The queen, Angela, and the children soon return, my handmaiden whisking young Emily away to wait in her chambers until her mother can come to her. Alice sits beside Jasper as he is tended to, Jameson held between them. The queen sits beside me, my own son cradled in my arms, as we watch the painful scene before us.

Tears cloud my vision as Emmett's fellow countrymen carefully lift his body onto a swath of clean linen. Peter leads the men as they work together to raise Emmett from the floor and carry him from the room. Now composed, Rosalie walks behind him, accompanying her husband on what will be his final journey.

"Where are they taking him?" I ask Esme, my voice raspy.

"To be prepared for the ceremony."

I look to her. "Ceremony?"

She nods. "It has been many generations since we've suffered a loss this great, but I've heard stories of great ceremonies that honor those who gave their lives for Galon. They will be commemorated as the warriors who saved their people," she says, her voice pained as she watches her nephew disappear from sight.

"He was a great man," I say softly. "His life and sacrifice should always be remembered."

* * *

Once back in my chambers, I settle my son in his cradle. He is awake but content, finally having been fed and changed. I use the tepid water in the basin to wash, scrubbing away at the remaining blood on my hands. More tears gather in my eyes as I think of what has happened this night. We came so close to losing everything, not only the lands and Masenthorne, but our very lives. I close my eyes, and tears stream down my cheeks as I think of Emmett and the family he has left behind.

Some of us did lose everything.

The sound of the opening door distracts me from my somber thoughts. I sniffle and wipe at my face. "I should not need anything, Angela. You may spend the night in your chambers. I believe we would all do well to rest," I say over my shoulder, still scrubbing at my pinkening skin.

"Does that mean you will be spending the rest of the night in your chambers?"

I gasp at the sound of my husband's voice, spinning around to meet his weary eyes. I take in his appearance. He is stripped of his armor and washed of all traces of the battle, but he is still an imposing figure as he hovers in my doorway. As I look more closely at the circles beneath his sorrowful eyes, the hunched set of his shoulders, I can see that his victory has come at a great cost.

"I was not expecting you, My Lord."

"Do you wish for me to go to my own chambers?" His question is half-hearted at best. The tiredness in his eyes appears to be soul-deep, and I know this day, the loss he's experienced, weighs heavily upon him.

"Not at all. I hoped you would come to me. I'd just not expected it to be so soon. I thought your father would require your presence for quite some time."

The corner of his mouth twitches, and he shakes his head once. "My father would have been happy to sequester me for several days, in fact, but my mother insisted I come to find you." His gaze bores into mine. "She sent me to wash and told me, in no uncertain terms, I was not to leave your chambers until the sun rose." His eyes flash to the cradle near the fire and back to me. "She tells me there is someone I need to meet."

I smile and nod. "There is," I whisper. I reach out and grasp his hand, guiding him toward our son. "Come."

Edward is wide-eyed and speechless as he peers into the cradle.

I take advantage of his stillness, picking up the child and stepping closer to my husband. "Your son, My Lord." My voice trembles as I pull back the blanket he is swaddled in.

Edward lays eyes on his firstborn child for the first time, and they light up in a way I've never before seen. With a shaky hand, he reaches out a single finger to trace our son's cheek.

"My son," he whispers reverently.

"Your son."

He looks up from the child. "What is his name?"

"I've not yet given him a name. I wish for you to name him."

He shakes his head. "It's hardly the custom here for a father to name his children. It's always been a mother's privilege to make the choice."

"I made the last important decision for us. I think it only appropriate for you to make this one."

A small smile lights his face. "Then I will consider it an honor."

"Would you like to hold him?"

With a gentleness belying his appearance, Edward takes his son into his arms, holding him close. "He is so small," he says with wonderment.

I breathe a small laugh as I guide him to sit beside me on the edge of my bed. "He has actually grown quite a bit in the month since he was born."

"I cannot imagine," he whispers as he traces his son's tiny features with his finger. He looks up to me. "Was it difficult? His birth?"

I shake my head. "No more than any other birth, I suppose."

"I am sorry I was not here."

I smile ruefully. "You were needed elsewhere."

We sit in silence with only the sounds of our son's coos and grunts as his father looks upon him.

"It is an old custom to name the firstborn son after a brave warrior," he says softly, "in hopes he will grow to be just like him." He turns from watching his son, and his eyes meet mine. "I want to name him after my cousin. I wish to name him after Emmett. After all, he saw you safely home after the attack on the road. He rescued you from a blizzard. He fought bravely to defend us. He is the reason I have my family in my arms."

I blink away tears and swallow the lump in my throat. "I think it will be an honor for our son to bear the name of such a great man."

"Prince Emmett Anthony Cullen of Galon," he says with quiet adoration as he looks down on our child. "It is a privilege to meet you, my son."

* * *

"And he will sleep all night?" Edward stands behind me as I lay little Emmett in his cradle.

"No," I say with a smile. "But he should sleep for a little while. He was just fed, and his bottom is dry. He will sleep until he is hungry, which isn't terribly long."

Edward stands behind me and wraps his arms around me as we stare down at our son. His eyes are heavy, and as his thumb finds its way into his mouth, it takes no time at all for him to drift to sleep.

My husband nuzzles his nose into my neck and places a kiss upon the tender spot where Jacob's blade nicked me. "I've missed you," he whispers.

I tilt my head to the side, allowing him better access. "As I've missed you."

He turns me and wraps one arm around my waist, while his other hand moves to the back of my head, cradling me against him. His forehead comes to rest on mine, and all of the emotion of the last many weeks bubbles to the surface.

"I was so worried I might never see you again. You were gone for so long."

"I came to you as soon as I could," he says, kissing my forehead. I nod against his kiss, and his mouth moves to mine.

His lips are firm, warm, insistent as he holds me tightly. With a squeeze of his arms, I'm lifted off the ground, my own arms wrapping around his shoulders. I'm held against him as he walks us toward my bed.

He places me on my feet, but I refuse to release him.

"No, please do not let go of me." My voice breaks as I desperately reach for him, and he brings me back into his arms.

"Shh. I won't. But I want to find some fresh clothes for you." He looks down at me, forcing me to look upon my bloodied dress. "You are—"

"Oh, I—"

He kisses the top of my head, and I reluctantly allow him to release me.

He opens the trunk that contains my dresses and other belongings and grabs a handful of fabric and blankets, tossing it all on the floor. Watching him, crouched and searching my belongings, so focused on taking care of my needs, emotion surges inside me. An overwhelming urge to reassure myself he is truly all right, that the fight is truly over, and he is finally home takes over all sense, and I cannot bear to be out of his grasp for another moment.

He stands and turns to me, his hands reaching for the laces of my dress. "We need to get you out of this—"

With a determination and a confidence I did not know I possessed, I cover his mouth with mine, wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands move to my back and I am suddenly surrounded by him. My kiss has sparked a blaze, and all I can do is hold on. Gone are his careful touches, instead replaced with an intensity unlike anything I have ever known.

"My Gods, seeing his blade at your throat, I thought ..." His words are mumbled against the sweaty skin of my neck. He pulls away and cradles my head in his hands. His eyes meet mine, and the fire inside of him is apparent in their green depths. "I told you I would protect you, fight for you. You are mine, Isabella, and no one will take you from me."

His hands move to the collar of my dress. "Tell me you are healed from the birth. Tell me I can have you."

I nod fervently, eager to have him in my bed. "I am."

His fingers curl around the edges of my dress, and he pulls. The thin fabric is no match for his desire to rid me of the sodden material. The stitches and laces simply break away, and it takes a mere moment before I am standing in the center of my bedchamber, completely bare.

My mouth does not leave his as he lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist and carrying me to my bed. The urgent need for him to fill me sends my hands to search out the laces of his trousers, but the complicated buckles and bands of leather I encounter on my quest only confuse me.

Without a word he sits up on his heels. He fumbles with the last of the laces and buckles, kissing me all the while.

"Mine," he mumbles against my lips as he enters me, swiftly and forcefully.

I cry out. "Yours."

A sense of completeness washes over me as he begins to move. This is not like the careful, gentle encounters we have shared. No, this is much different. No words are spoken as he takes me, the urgent need to be one, to remind us both we are still alive, is just too strong.

Desperate to feel his skin, my fingers slip beneath his tunic, enjoying the feel of his strong muscles as he moves. And as he thrusts, the fabric of his shirt brushes against my sensitive nipples, causing me to gasp with pleasure each time.

"No one will take you from me, wife. No one." His lips brush the skin of my neck, and his tongue swipes across the cut there, causing me to cry out.

My legs hold tightly to his hips as he moves above me, and I believe if we could stay like this forever, I would welcome it. My hands roam of their own accord, continuing to caress the skin of his back before one descends, covering the smooth, strong muscle of his backside as he moves almost fluidly inside me. I hold him tightly, cries of passion leaving my lips as grunts leave his.

Intense pleasure blazes through me, tightening low in my belly and bursting out through my limbs. I hold on to him as he continues to thrust into me, his movements growing slower but stronger, until he stills, pulsing inside me.

"I love you," he murmurs against my lips as he kisses me once more, collapsing to my side and gathering me into his arms.

I curl into his embrace, resting my head on his chest. "And I love you."

For several minutes, nothing more than our heavy breaths and our son's quiet sighs can be heard in the room.

"I truly came back as soon as I could."

I look up at him, and his sharp green eyes meet mine. "I am sure you did."

He turns onto his side and scoots down until we are eye to eye. "It took us more than a sennight to cross paths with Marcus and his men. We were able to track them for a few more days, finally trapping them in a ravine before we attacked. When the last man fell, we accounted for everyone there and came to realize Aro wasn't among the men." He sighs and pulls me closer. "I chose to turn back toward Adwen, in hopes of catching Aro undefended."

"But he was here," I whisper.

He nods. "He was here. We were able to take back Adwen and Broadcove castle, but Aro was not there. We interrogated a few of the men left behind and learned of their plans to use Marcus and his men to lead us away from Galon. By then, it was too late for us to stop what they'd planned."

"But you did return, and you were able to save us," I say with a small smile.

"We were. I only wish I'd been here sooner. Maybe—"

I place a gentle kiss to his lips, silencing him. "In the end, Aro and his men were defeated. It was looking quite grim before you arrived. So, you saved not only us, but the castle and everyone in it. Your people, your father, _I _will be forever in your debt."

"But it was you who saved me," he whispers against my forehead, placing another kiss there. He tucks me under his chin and strokes a gentle hand down my back.

"Do you know of my sisters' fates? Were they still at Broadcove?" I whisper, afraid of his answer.

When tenses for a moment, I know the news is not good.

"Bree was, as we all suspected, married off to Prince Riley of Moira."

I look up at him. "My mother's homeland?"

He nods. "Yes. They are ... _were_ allies of Rhema, though I am unsure where their alliances lie now that Rhema is all but impotent, given their king and prince are both dead."

"And Jane?"

He heaves a heavy sigh. "They say Marcus entered her chambers one night and she never woke the next morning. I saw to it her body was buried next to your father's. I am sorry."

Every cruel thing she ever said to me, every vicious act she carried out, flashes through my memory. I am unsure how to feel. I am unsure I feel _anything_.

With kisses and whispered words meant to reassure me, he holds me in his warm embrace, safe and protected from the evils that tried to do us harm. And as we both close our eyes, we listen to the raised voices resonating throughout the castle and beyond my window, shouts of victory which carry on through the night.

Aro and his army have been defeated at last.

Smoke rises from the vast funeral pyres built for all the fallen men. Everyone who lost someone is gathered beyond the gates of Masenthorne. Even the few who have not lost someone are here, paying their last respects.

In all, more than two hundred men fell in battle, Lord Emmett McCarty among them. Noble and peasant alike are given the funeral of a warrior, for they all gave their lives so that we could live.

Edward and I stand side by side, and as each fire is lit, with each lowering of the torch, another family says goodbye. It is the same scene over and over, so many people saying goodbye to their friend, their loved one, their comrade. Each scene is heartbreaking for me, but none so much as watching Lady McCarty and young Emily approach Emmett's body.

They step slowly toward the final pyre to be lit, hand in hand, and as they grow closer, Rosalie's steps falter. When they finally reach him, Rosalie lifts Emily, pulling her up and into her arms. Mother and daughter both bend to place kisses upon their beloved's head. Rosalie lingers, and I can only imagine the many things she is whispering to her husband, things that will always remain unheard.

Slowly, she straightens, placing a gentle kiss on Emily's head before lowering her daughter to the ground. Standing tall and stoic, she reaches out and grasps the burning torch, placing it under her husband's body. She steps back as the tinder beneath him catches, and soon his wrapped body is engulfed in flames. A fissure in her impenetrable armor splinters, and she loses what little composure has been holding her broken pieces together.

Her shoulders shake as she tries to hold in her sobs, attempting to remain strong for her daughter, for her countrymen who look on. She covers her mouth and closes her eyes, the tears held behind her lashes finally spilling onto her cheeks. Peter steps forward to console her, standing by her side as the flames burn.

I turn and bury my face in my husband's chest, and he wraps an arm around me, kissing the top of my head.

"They will be cared for, Isabella," he whispers in my ear, reassuring me. "He gave his life for this land, and we will not soon forget his sacrifice."

I nod against his chest but say nothing in return.

A small cry behind me gains my attention, and I turn to find Angela standing nearby, little Emmett held over her shoulder. She tries to soothe him, but it is to no avail. "I believe he is missing his mother," she whispers.

I nod and gladly gather him into my arms, needing the comfort myself. Content to be held, little Emmett calms and drifts back to sleep as his father and I watch until Emmett's pyre is not much more than a pile of ash.

When the herald calls out that the ceremony is complete, that Galon is in a state of mourning until the next full moon, the crowd begins to disperse.

"What now?" I ask, looking up at Edward. "Where do we go from here?"

He looks down at me, a small smile on his face as he catches sight of our son nuzzled into my neck. His tired eyes meet mine. "We carry on. We rebuild what was lost and forge ahead ... prove their sacrifices were not in vain."

I step into his open arms and am engulfed in his embrace. "I love you," I whisper.

He kisses the top of my head, and we stay as we are and watch as the last of the villagers return to their temporary homes. The tent city that has been erected in the shadow of their burned-out village is a vast sea of canvas. But I have no doubt it will not stand for long. Our people will rebuild quickly.

"Isabella."

I turn to find the king standing a stone's-throw away. "Your Majesty," I reply, quickly gaining my wits.

"Might I have a word with you?" He glances at his son but looks back to me. "Please?"

I look up at Edward's worried expression. Knowing his relationship with his father is still tense, I know he would rather I not speak with Carlisle in private.

"Of course, My Lord, but I wish for my husband to stay." Edward's squeeze of my waist as I stand at his side tells me I have made the right choice.

"Very well," the king replies. He steps closer, and as he nears, I take in his haggard face, the slump of his shoulders. The battle with Rhema seems to have aged him by years. "I wish to both thank you and offer an apology," he finally says.

"My Lord?"

"I am told it was you who fired the bolt which killed Aro, and in doing so, you saved my son." His emotion-filled eyes flash briefly to Edward. "So, I thank you. You saved Galon in more ways than one that night."

"I only did what anyone else in my position would have done. Galon is my home, My Lord, my kingdom, and I wanted to do my part in defending it. My husband will one day rule over the lands and people who live on them. It is my duty to stand by his side and support him any way I can. I am also raising a future king. My loyalty will always lie with them, with the people they will serve. And saving the man I love is something I needed not even think about."

He studies me, his critical eye moving between his son and myself. "I once told you I'd misjudged you, Isabella. But I do not think I knew how much until recently. I have done you a great disservice since you came to us. I've treated you unfairly, and I can only hope to gain your forgiveness."

I look at the child cradled in my arms and then up to my husband before turning back to the king. "I've always known your actions are guided by what you think is best for your people, and I realize you've not always seen me as what is best for them ... or your son." My gaze turns to the field where so many were put to rest this day. "So many have sacrificed so much." I turn back to him. "My having to endure your disapproval of me, for whatever reason you had, is a small price to pay in comparison if it means we are to move forward. I forgive you, My Lord."

"Thank you, Isabella." He smiles. It is a look I've not had the pleasure to see before this moment. I only now realize many of my husband's most striking features are shared with his father. "You will make a gracious and just queen one day." He looks to Edward and back to me. "My son chose well."

With stunned expressions, Edward and I watch as the king turns and walks away.

"I honestly cannot remember the last time I heard my father apologize ... for anything." He looks down at me. A small smile lights his face, and it is a welcome sight after such an emotionally trying day. "You truly will make a wonderful queen one day." He leans down and kisses the top of my head. "_My_ queen," he murmurs against my hair.

Young Emmett chooses that moment to wake, whimpering and vying for our attention.

"And this little one is my prince," my husband says as he takes his son from my arms. The way he holds him close tells me he needs the comfort only our son can provide. He loops an arm around my waist and guides me toward the door leading inside. "Come, my queen. Let us return to our chambers. I wish to lock out the world and enjoy my family, at least for the rest of today. Duty will come calling for me soon enough."

As I watch them, the two most important people in my life, my heart swells with a joy and contentment I never thought I would experience. Gone is the girl who was ignored, mistreated, and unloved, and in her place is a woman, a wife, a mother who has everything she ever wanted—a family who loves her in return.

The future and rule of my homeland is still unknown, but I am certain of one thing: choosing my own fate—marrying Edward and coming to Galon—is one of the best decisions I have ever made. And looking up at my smiling husband as he holds his son in his arms, I am certain that giving him my heart is another.

* * *

**A/N: *sigh* And that's it other than the epilogue still to come. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Xo**

**A couple of readers were none too happy with the direction of the story, even this late in the game. I'm not sure what to say about that. I don't feel I misrepresented anything. The story is marked as drama and romance, but I was told by at least one reader that this wasn't romance. *shrugs* I've waffled back and forth about marking it angst, but I think I've decided to go back and edit the A/N in the prologue and mention the heavy drama/light angst to come. If you read the summary, spilled blood is mentioned, so all I can say is, if you had any reservations about the story, a simple PM would have helped. Although, this was very much a work in progress, and the plot developed as it was written. I didn't set out to mislead anyone about the direction of the story. I did, in fact, draw a lot of inspiration for the visuals from The Last Kingdom and Game of Thrones, which I would have told you had you asked, dear GR. ;) **

**Today is my 22nd wedding anniversary, and we're taking off in a few hours for a ridiculously extended weekend in Florida ... the Sunshine State. Pretty apropos for this family, don't ya think? ;) So, due to being in a different locale on Tuesday, I can't promise what time the epilogue will post, but it will post on (my) Tuesday. And yes I'm looking at you, SassYNoleS. ;p. So, even if I have to drive to a McDonalds for public wifi to post, I will. ;)**

**No recs this week, and probably none for the epi, either. But I love the recommendations some of you are leaving in reviews. Lots to add to my TBR list! **

**I wish all of you the happiest of holidays in the coming days. Enjoy your time with friends and family—the most important thing about this time of year. Xo**

"**See" you soon!**

**Lots of love**

**~Sunshine **


	31. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The early autumn sun warmed Isabella's face as she tilted her head back. With her eyes closed, she soaked up what she could, knowing cooler days would lie ahead. She also reveled in the moment of solitude. It was something she did not get nearly often enough ... especially on a day like this. Tinkling laughter rang through the courtyard, and she knew her youngest son was up to mischief somewhere nearby. She inhaled deeply, and the scent of flowers nearly overpowered her senses. There were _many_ flowers filling the halls of Masenthorne that day.

It was a wedding, after all.

As the sun shone down on her, Isabella reflected on the last twenty years of her life in Galon. So much had changed over time; she hardly recognized Masenthorne as the place she first came to live so long ago. Not only had the people she came to know and love changed, so too had the landscape.

The summer after Rhema's attack, the people of Galon began to pick up the pieces of their lives and rebuild. With the longer, warmer days, the village outside the walls of Masenthorne rose from the ashes. Homes were rebuilt, fields were replanted, and the lives of the villagers began to resemble what they were before Rhema's attack.

Reasons to smile had been everywhere.

Angela and Benjamin were married just before the first harvest that summer, giving the people of the land a much-needed reason to celebrate. It also gave Angela a new title. Married to a knight in the King's Guard, she was officially a Lady and no longer a mere handmaiden. Forever loyal, she refused to leave Isabella's service, instead staying on with the future queen as her lady-in-waiting and enjoying the privilege that came with her new position.

When the warmth of summer had waned and autumn approached, new beginnings of another sort had made themselves known.

Word of Rosalie carrying her late husband's child spread through the castle, causing both sadness and joy in its wake. And while she held her head high, everyone knew her heartbreak was great. The impending arrival was bittersweet. Even though the child was a blessing, Lord McCarty not being there to witness his second daughter, Claire, come into the world on a cold, dark day in winter was difficult for his widow.

Once out of her seclusion, though, the friendship she'd forged with Peter began to grow into something more. Their quiet conversations and secret smiles as the months passed were obvious to all who witnessed them, so it came as no surprise when they announced their own decision to marry.

Nearly a year after Emmett's passing, the small ceremony was held in the castle's chantry on a sunny spring day, with only family and a few close friends there to witness it. It was at the small feast held in the couple's honor afterward when Isabella was unable to keep her own secret to herself.

The warm room, coupled with being spun on the small dance floor, had not agreed with her delicate state, and she found herself fainting into her worried husband's arms.

"Isabella!" His panicked plea was met with silence. The brief moment between his wife's body going limp and her eyes opening felt like an eternity. As people began to crowd around them, he cradled her soft, flushed cheek in his hand, willing her eyes to open.

When they finally did, confusion at how she nearly ended up lying on the floor set in.

"Wha—" She licked her lips and swallowed, her throat suddenly dry and her vision spotted. "What happened?" she rasped.

"You collapsed in my arms, my love."

She moved to stand, Edward's protective hold not loosening as he steadied her. Isabella looked around the room, and all eyes were on her. Heat filled her cheeks when she realized she'd gained the attention of nearly everyone in the room.

"I think returning to our chambers might be a good idea," she whispered to her husband, attempting to draw less attention to themselves.

"I agree." He held on to her elbows as she swayed slightly on her feet. "Are you well enough to walk, or shall I carry you?"

She smiled softly at his offer, knowing he surely would carry her if he thought she was unable to make the trek. "No," she said, shaking her head, "I believe I can walk. Perhaps you could escort me?"

"As if I would allow you to go anywhere without me," he scoffed.

After saying their goodbyes and wishing the new couple well, they navigated the familiar halls of Masenthorne until they reached Isabella's chambers. Stepping inside, Edward led her to the bed, his wife smiling all the while.

"I will send for someone to bring you something to eat. You should rest." He leaned down to kiss her forehead and then stood, turning to walk toward the door.

Isabella spoke from her place on the bed, her voice soft but full of happiness. "Wait, Edward."

Hearing the waver in his wife's voice, Edward stopped.

"There is something I wish to speak to you about."

He paused, an unfamiliar prickle creeping up his spine at the tone of his wife's request. He slowly turned, meeting her shining eyes. Quiet stretched between them, and seeing the utter joy on his wife's face, the prickle turned to a warmth, spreading through his body. He patiently waited for her to speak, for how could anything bad accompany an expression filled with such happiness?

She'd thought many times how she would tell her husband, and she wanted to savor the moment. After all, she'd been unable to share her secret the first time. "And we just finished eating, Edward." She shook her head. "I am not hungry. I merely need to rest."

"You are sure?"

"I am sure." She smiled up at him. "But I am fairly certain I know why I fainted."

He stepped cautiously closer to her, a stern look on his face. "There are very few reasons for a woman to collapse in her husband's arms, and not one of them is good."

"I can think of one," she said, her smile widening. "I believe I am with child," she whispered.

For as long as she would live, Isabella would never forget the smile that overtook her husband's face or the cry of joy he made as he swept her into his embrace. It nearly matched the happiness she felt many months later when she was able to place their newborn daughter in his arms just moments after her birth.

Later, when Isabella watched young Emmett hold his infant sister for the first time, she came to realize how much her heart could grow. In fact, the entire castle was enamored of the young princess.

Elizabeth Reneé Cullen was the apple of her father's eye and the joy of her mother's heart. And as she grew, they all came to realize she was the very best parts of her parents. She had her mother's wit and tenacity, and also her father's drive and inner strength. Instead of playing with dolls and learning embroidery alongside Rosalie's daughters, she chose to trail alongside her older brother and cousin, Jameson, when his family visited from Thornbridge.

She learned archery at a very young age, despite the disapproval of her aunt and grandmother. But with her parents' blessing, as well as the approval of her grandfather, she became quite skilled before she was ever officially presented at court.

Along with Emmett and Elizabeth, three more Cullen sons were born to Edward and Isabella, guaranteeing the family line for generations. With the arrival of each Cullen son, Alice could breathe a sigh of relief. Even if her husband was still called upon to counsel her father and brother, knowing her own sons would never be called upon to sit on Galon's throne brought her peace. She was more than content to spend her days raising her family away from the politics of Galon.

When Carlisle collapsed during Edward's thirty-fifth summer, talk of his abdication, which would allow Edward to take over the throne, ran rampant through the castle. But it was all for naught. Carlisle never recovered from his illness and passed into the next life before the first frost that year, with his dutiful wife beside him until his final breath.

Days later, Edward was crowned king with his beloved Isabella at his side as their five children and his mother looked on.

Word was sent far and wide, their enemies and allies alike learning of Galon's new king. And while minor disputes in the far reaches of the kingdom kept his men busy, Edward did not face any true opposition when he took the throne.

It had been a relatively quiet ten years since he took his rightful place as king, leaving Edward and his queen time to enjoy their family and see to the growth of Galon and all her lands. Even Adwen, now under the rule of Galon, was flourishing. Peter served as Lord of Adwen, faithfully watching over the distant land with Rosalie and their four children at his side. And after today, Adwen would be under the watchful eye of Isabella's firstborn son ... just as it had been decided so many years before.

"What has you smiling, wife?"

Isabella's eyes fluttered open, and she turned to smile at her husband. "Just reminiscing."

"About?" Edward asked as he stepped closer.

Their youngest son, Michael, ran past them and into the corridor leading inside. His trill of laughter echoed off the stone walls as his older brother, Garrett, caught up with him, effectively bringing to an end his playtime. Edward and Isabella watched as their sons walked side by side toward the temple.

"How much life has changed for us," she finally answered, smiling, as he settled on the bench beside her.

"I suppose today would be an occasion to reflect." He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. "It truly does feel like a lifetime ago that I made that deal with your father."

Isabella's heart seized at the mention of her father, as it always did. Knowing what she did as a wife and mother, she was conflicted. Her love for her husband was so all-encompassing, so deep and consuming, she could not honestly say how she would feel if he were taken from her in death as her mother had been taken from her father. Would she be able to carry on, or would she grow bitter and cold as Charles had? She also knew she would die for any one of her children and would never make any of them feel less than worthy of love. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wished she'd had the chance to speak to him just one more time.

Edward squeezed her hand. "There was a time it felt as though this day would never be realized."

Isabella smiled. "Emmett tells me he is nervous," she said quietly. She looked up at her husband, the flecks of grey at his temples and the lines at the corners of his eyes reminding her of the years they had enjoyed together.

"He is no more nervous than when I was sent there to confront Charles."

"Yes, but this time it will be under happier circumstances that a Cullen will walk through the gates."

Edward smiled, remembering the joy he felt when Emmett sought his blessing to marry Peter's daughter, Claire. "That it will be. A wedding is a much more pleasant circumstance than the task my father gave me—being sent to take over your lands."

"I am merely glad you did not insist any of our children marry for the wrong reasons."

He brushed an errant curl from her face. "If our children can have only a small measure of the happiness we have had, they will be blessed by the gods. It is the only kind of life I want for any of them."

"Even Elizabeth?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "If she can find any man who can appreciate her ... willfulness, she will receive my enthusiastic blessing."

Isabella joined him in his quiet laughter, resting her head on his shoulder. "It seems everything has come full circle, has it not?"

"It has." He kissed her temple, inhaling the sweetness of her hair.

She looked up at him then. "And you do not regret not aligning us with another kingdom through Emmett's marriage?"

"Never. Being able to choose for ourselves what our fate would be has been more than a blessing, and I would be a fool to not want that for my own children."

At the sound of the herald announcing the impending ceremony, Edward stood from the bench and offered his hand to his wife. "It would seem our presence is required."

Isabella steadied herself and carefully rose to her feet, her swollen middle a minor hinderance. "I will be happy once this one is born," she said, looking down. "My feet have long since disappeared from my sight."

"I can assure you they are still there," Edward said with a hint of amusement.

Isabella raised a brow. "Then I fully expect you to locate them when we finally retire to our chambers. I am sure they will be in need of a thorough rubbing once the festivities are through."

The low timbre of Edward's chuckle sent a delicious tingle down her spine as he placed another kiss upon her knuckles. "If that is your wish, my queen."

* * *

**A/N: And they all lived happily ever after. I hope you've enjoyed this little tale, and I'd love to hear your thoughts. I've read and appreciate each and every review, even if I haven't had the time to reply to all of them. Every follow and favorite also put a smile on my face. It means the world to me to know there are so many out there who like the stories I write. **

**A giant hug and thank you to all my girls. April, Cece, Gail, and May, thank you for all your feedback on this one even when it looked like it was going off the tracks. ;p A special thank you to Fran for her help with the original AoE 2017 entry and the first few chapters of this one. And thank you to KJ for joining me a few chapters into this tale. There aren't enough nice things to say about all these lovely women. I heart you all! Xo**

**I do have outtakes planned for this story, so keep this one on alert. I have a few planned, but if there is something specific you'd like to see, PM me or leave it in a review. I do plan to work my way back through the reviews and at the very least answer the direct questions. I'll be back home at the end of the week, so I hope to get back to it soon. **

**I've also got several fics planned for the coming year. I have half a dozen or more bunnies fighting for attention, so look for something new (or continuing ;)) next month if all goes well. To see what's next, be sure to join me on Facebook in my fic group, Sunshine Fics, or on Twitter at CSunshine1220. **

**Have the happiest of holidays and a safe and happy new year! Xoxo**

**Lots of love**

**~ Sunshine **


	32. Captive: An Outtake

**This is one of my contributions to the Babies at the Border, the Fight Continues Fiction Compilation. This second annual fundraiser was able to raise over $7000, bringing the total for both years to well over $23,000 for charities to help reunite children separated from their parents at the US border. This is still a very worthy cause, and I encourage you to continue to support the efforts of those organizations still fighting for these kids.  
**

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**Disclaimer:** The author does not own any of the publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Captive: A Dominion of My Heart outtake**

Summary: Taken in the dark of night, Edward endures the cruelty of his enemies, both old and new. Will he be able to survive his captivity? An outtake written in EPOV, these are the events following those in chapter eleven of Dominion of My Heart. Not a stand alone chapter.

* * *

**Edward**

"_Edward!" Her scream echoes across the distance. My head turns, and our eyes meet. In that one moment of distraction, the enemy wielding his sword strikes. His blade grazes my right arm, but it is enough to cause my sword to fall from my grasp. The men surrounding us take the opportunity in my moment of weakness to seize me._

_Isabella's muffled screams are but a buzzing in the chaos that follows, and when I am able to meet her eyes once again, with flames and an army between us, I mouth a single order. _

"_Go!"_

_She hesitates, and I will her feet to move, for her to escape to safety, and with a final pleading look, she turns and runs into the darkness._

_My eyes close, and I say a quick prayer of thanks to the Gods._

"_Oh, King Aro will be mighty happy to see your pretty face," a voice taunts me from beyond my closed lids. I do not see the blow to my head coming, but I am soon blissfully unaware, swallowed by the darkness. _

A kick to my bruised side startles me from my repeating nightmare. Smells of soot and ash, along with the burnt remnants of a ruined meal assault me as I gain consciousness. When my eyes open, I find I am still in the same hell in which I fell asleep.

The Rheman army's camp.

"Wake up, Cullen." The brusque voice of my guard gets louder as he nears, clean cloths to dress my wound in his hand. "If you behave and don't try to kill anyone like you did yesterday, we might let you eat something."

The corner of my mouth turns up in a slight grin as I think about my bold yet foolish move just yesterday.

I'd been led to the tree line along the road to take a piss, and when the guard had his back turned to me, I somehow managed to relieve him of his sword, running him through before he could yell for help. It was mere seconds before I was surrounded by a dozen men, all their swords pointed at my throat, and with my hands bound, I was helpless to defend myself against so many.

The only thing I've earned is men watching as I piss, and I'm never more than a few paces away from any one of them. Even now, the man changing my dressings is so close I can see the remnants of his last meal stuck between his teeth, his rancid breath nearly making me heave.

The man is none too careful as he removes the soiled strips of linen and ties new ones around my arm. "There, that should do it," he says as he tightens the knot. "Time to get a move on."

I remain silent but comply, rising from the ground and readying myself for yet another long day of walking behind a horse.

The sharp scents of my own blood and sweat, and the ever-present aroma of horse shit surround me as I'm pulled along. The chains binding my hands are heavy, and the soles of my boots are wearing thin. Each day it is a little colder, and the look of the sky and angle of the sun leads me to think the days of autumn are numbered. While this region is warmer than my homeland, I know colder days are just ahead.

I'm unsure how far we've traveled, but I am certain of one thing; if we do not reach our destination soon, I fear I may perish. Then again, when we finally arrive, I may perish as well.

Denied food nearly every day and water most, I can feel my energy slipping from me. Only thoughts of my wife, my Isabella, propel me forward. I am still unsure if she was taken by another group of men, and I cannot allow myself to succumb until I know for certain she is safe.

Another kick, this time to the back of my knee, sends me to the ground.

"Oops. Pardon me, My Lord. Seems I wasn't watching where I was going."

Several of them join in the man's laughter as I stumble back to my feet before the horse can drag me along the road.

I have lost count of how many days we've been traveling, and by now, I can deduce we are headed back toward Adwen. My fear that Aro has seized the castle is all but confirmed, judging by the boasting of the men escorting me.

"Have you had a good look at those princesses?" one of them asks from behind me, his comment followed by a long and low whistle. "It's a pity that older one, ripe and ready to plow, is being wasted on Prince Marcus. From what I hear, I'm not sure he even knows what to do with a cunt, other than beat it into submission."

He and another man laugh at Jane's expense until they're silenced by another. "You'll shut yer mouths if you know what's good for ya. If Aro catches wind of you talking about his son, yer heads will be on a pike on Broadcove's wall before the horses are unsaddled."

"Aw, we're just havin' a laugh, Sam. It's true, though. I heard from my cousin that Marcus called down to the brothel when we first got to Adwen." His voice lowers, and I tilt my head to listen more closely. "The whore never came back."

Finally, the man riding the horse I'm being led by bellows, "Enough! Paul is right. No more talk of the prince." He turns back, his narrowed eyes on the dolts causing the trouble. "And no more talk of the princesses." He turns back to the road. "What our king decides to do with his spoils is none of our concern."

I close my eyes and amble along, the tug of the chains spurring me on when my steps falter. Just when I feel I cannot take another step, I'm prompted to open my eyes.

"Would you have a look at that? Looks a might better than when we left, don't it?"

My eyes open, and what I see confirms what I assumed to be true all along.

Lining the walls of Broadcove Castle, the red and black banners of Rhema blow in the gentle breeze, signaling what I feared most.

Adwen has been taken by King Aro and his army.

* * *

Unlike the first time I passed through the gates of Adwen—my men at my back to barter an agreement with King Charles—this time I have no sword, no army to fight on my behalf. This time I am bound in chains, a prisoner of an opposing army.

I am marched into the courtyard like a farm animal being sent to the slaughter, and those watching along the periphery appear anxious to see what fate may befall me. I am distracted by the onlookers when we come to a halt, the chains binding my wrists tugged tightly until I stop.

The crowd parts, and the vile man I would recognize anywhere steps from the shadows.

King Aro Volturi of Rhema.

He studies me as he approaches, and an unease I have never before felt settles in my gut. I am a prisoner, restrained, unarmed, and at the mercy of a man feared by all the surrounding kingdoms.

"So good of you to join us, young Edward. I was told well wishes are in order on your marriage to the lovely Isabella." His head tilts up, and his eyes look over the returning men filing in behind me before returning to me. "And where is your new bride?" He looks to the man holding my chains. "My orders were for you to bring them both back here."

"She was able to escape, Your Highness." His voice trembles, but he stands tall as he addresses his king.

"Escape, Sam?" Aro turns, linking his hands behind his back as he begins to pace before us.

"Yes, My Lord."

"And _how_ was she able to escape?"

"We do not know, My Lord. We believe she was able to get away with the rest of Cullen's men who escaped."

"Hmm," he says, nodding. "That is a problem, indeed." He eyes the group once more before turning to the man holding my chains. "And the Galon soldier who assisted us? I do not see him with you. Am I to believe he's run off as well?"

The men surrounding me all look to each other as Sam straightens his back. From all my years of leading men into battle and fighting alongside them, I recognize his posture: fear. He may be standing tall, but I know—Aro knows—Sam is about to piss himself.

"Alec is dead, My Lord."

"Dead?"

"Yes, My Lord."

Aro's eyes close for a brief moment, and he rubs at his temple. "And did you kill him?"

"I did, My Lord."

"Why did you kill him, Sam?"

"We decided it was too much of a risk to allow him to live. We were not certain where his loyalties lay, and we did not feel it was worth the risk, My Lord."

A long, deep sigh of exasperation leaves Aro. "You did not think I would want him interrogated? You did not think there were things—useful bits of information—we could have gleaned from him? Hmm?"

Sam's mouth opens, and it closes just as quickly. He realizes his grave mistake.

Knowing Aro's taste for blood and intolerance for mistakes, I am unsurprised by what comes next. After all, I would likely do the same.

Aro turns back to his soldier, and in a move so swift even I was unable to see it coming, he pulls the sword from his side and runs it through the man's chest. With his hand still gripping the hilt as the soldier falls to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth, Aro addresses the crowd. "Kill them," he orders.

The slide of metal as the swords are drawn from their sheaths is unmistakable. The guttural sounds of the men surrounding me echo in the enclosed courtyard as they meet their ends.

It is over as soon as it began.

"Someone see to this mess," Aro orders no one in particular before turning to address me. "And you, young prince, since you are my only bargaining tool now, I will need time to rethink my strategy. Your pretty little wife still being out there means there could still be a claim to this pathetic land, and I will need to have a little chat with Charles before I decide what to do with you."

He begins to walk away, but I call out to him. "So, Charles is still alive?"

Aro pauses and turns back to me, narrowing his eyes. "For now." He spins on his heel and disappears back into the shadows from which he'd emerged.

With nothing more said, I am pulled in another direction and led into the dark passages under Broadcove Castle.

* * *

The moans and grumbling of other prisoners can be heard from nearby cells, along with the squeak and scratching of rodents scurrying nearby. The smell of piss and shit are an ever-present accompaniment to the misery. They are sounds and smells I do my best to ignore. They are, after all, far better than the alternative.

Whispers of recounted events, tales of Rhema's invasion and attack can be heard as I close my eyes. Most of the men held here are accused of treason. They deny it of course, pledging their loyalty to King Charles. Their only apparent crime is their resistance to Rheman rule.

The men who are dragged from their cells are never seen or heard from again. Once they pass through the doorway leading up to the courtyard, it is as if they never existed. If it is especially quiet though, you can hear their cries of agony as they're tortured until their cries cease altogether.

The wound on my sword arm is red and swollen—painful—but it has scabbed over. I do my best to keep it clean with what little water I have. If I could only have access to a blade and flame, I could sear it, sealing out infection. I pray that I am strong enough to withstand whatever is next for me.

I cycle through periods of wakefulness and sleep, never knowing if it is day or night. Stale bread and warm ale are occasionally left, and I swallow what I can. The tightening of my stomach makes it difficult to take in too much.

Only thoughts of my beautiful wife sustain me as I drift between my captive existence and my nightmares. Though, when I manage to fall asleep thinking of her, often my nightmares are of her capture, her torture, and I wake in a panic, the bars of my cell barely able to contain me. It is not until I push away the fog that I remember where I am and that she was able to escape with my men. By now, she and the others must have reached Galon. I find comfort in thinking she is safely ensconced behind the castle walls, protected by my men and their king. Perhaps enough time has passed that she knows if she is carrying my son. I am comforted in the knowledge that if that is true, she is safe, _they_ are safe.

The jangle of the prison guard's keys echo along the walls as he walks heavy-footed down the stone steps. As he nears, I straighten, watchful of his next move. We just received a meal yesterday, so there can be only one reason for his appearance.

"King Aro wishes to have a word with you," he says as he places the key into the lock. "Come on out with ya, Cullen. They've got a new place to lock you up." He chuckles as he pulls open the cell door, waiting for me to rise and walk through.

I get to my feet and stumble, the weight of the chains heavier than they were when I was first locked away.

"Move it," the guard says. "Don't want to keep our king waitin', now do ya?"

The courtyard is much like it was the last time I was in it—crowds of people lining the periphery as I'm led by my chains—but this time there is one glaring difference. A post has been erected in the center of the courtyard, chains and ropes attached to it, and I don't have to guess at its intended purpose.

"So good of you to join us, Your Highness. Won't you have a seat?" Aro grins widely as I'm led to the post, the clanking of the chains sounding as I'm bound once again. "We have quite the show for you today," he says gleefully.

I watch as Aro moves to sit in a seat fashioned much like a throne. As he steps aside, the pale face of Jane shines back at me in the midday sun. Her eyes are vacant as she sits beside the man I know to be Aro's son—Prince Marcus. Jane's once pleasant enough face is marred with bruises, both old and new. I look past her and into the same vacant, blue eyes of Bree as she stands behind her sister. She looks so small next to the soldiers who guard the low dais.

Even if I wanted to speak, to call out and ask if they are well, I would not. I know it will do none of us any good. Bound as I am, I am of no use to anyone. As if to remind me I am at their mercy, I am unceremoniously shoved to the ground. With my hands bound behind me, my back rests against the pole, and I wait. Aro is obviously excited for me to see whatever it is he wishes to show me, judging by the wide smile on his face.

The steps leading inside the keep are in my line of sight, and as I stare straight ahead, forms begin to take shape in the shadows.

Stepping out into the light, King Charles is bound, much like myself, and being led by Rheman soldiers toward Aro and his assembled court. Charles is dirty, his face bruised and gaunt. He has clearly suffered at the hands of the man who has invaded his home.

"It would seem that Adwen has been led into dark times by their very own king," Aro begins. "Famine and disease have run rampant, all while King Charles sat greedily by and hoarded the taxes collected at his shores." He pauses and stares at the humiliated king, bound and on his knees before him. "I came to Adwen to offer my help." Aro's eyes snap to mine. "But Charles had already sold off one daughter to the highest bidder."

I internally scoff at his choice of words.

"He even bartered with the very lives of his people." His voice rises, surely to gain the attention of Adwen's people gathered at the rear of the courtyard. "He offered his throne to any prince of any kingdom able to produce a son with one of his daughters." He turns back to the bruised and battered king. "But that is not really the case, is it, Charles? You never intended to carry out the same agreement with any kingdom other than Galon, did you?"

"They were ready to attack us! I would have agreed to—" Charles' forceful words are cut off, a blade held to his throat by one of Aro's soldiers, and he is unable to answer for himself.

"I came here to offer my son to wed your daughter—"

"And I gladly accepted," Charles retorts in a raspy growl, the blade pressing against his throat. "You killed almost half my army! I had no choice but to agree, Aro! But you—"

"Silence! You signed an agreement with Galon. You neglected to offer the same terms to Rhema," Aro says, eyeing a now silent Charles. On his knees, Adwen's disgraced king looks up at Aro, seething hatred burning behind his eyes; yet he remains silent. "Therefore, I deem our agreement null and void. Your deception is an act of war against Rhema, and I hereby sentence you to die."

Gasps and murmurs are heard all around me as Aro reaches his hand toward one of his men, and a sword is placed in it.

"Any last words, _Your Majesty_?" he asks as he steps toward Charles, looking down on him.

From my place, mere paces away, I can see the enmity-filled sneer he gives Aro, but I also see resignation. He knows his time in this world has come to an end, and nothing he can say will change Aro's mind.

Charles' voice, although weak, is loud enough for the crowd to hear him. "Let it be known in all the kingdoms—from here to Rhema, to Moira, to Galon and beyond—these are false charges. It was you, Aro Volturi, who broke our agreement. I am innocent."

Aro ignores Charles' denial and raises his sword. "May your god have mercy on your soul." He brings the blade down swiftly and surely, severing the head of the king, leaving Adwen now under Rheman rule.

The stunned crowd dissipates as the Rheman soldiers push them from the courtyard. They amble past and around me, their faces all carrying the same look of shock.

I'm left chained to the post, my hands still bound behind me, and as fewer and fewer people remain in the courtyard, I realize they intend to leave me here.

Eventually, two guards arrive to dispose of Charles' body. I watch in morbid curiosity as one picks up the severed head and begins to carry it away.

"Where you think you're goin' with that?" the other asks, pointing at the head in the other man's grasp.

He shrugs. "King Aro wants it on a pike on the wall. I'm just following orders."

"Well, what are we supposed to do with the rest of him?" he asks exasperatedly.

"I was told to leave him." The guard's eyes flash to mine then back to the other man. "Seems he wants our guest here to have some company."

I close my eyes and pray. I pray for my life, I pray for my wife's safety, and I pray this nightmare ends before I find myself at the end of Aro's blade.

* * *

My eyes snap open. The ragged, threadbare blanket a servant left out of pity for me blows off of me yet again, leaving me exposed to the wind and light rain. In the fog of my mind, I realize I must be cold, but I do not feel it.

I am numb.

It is a state I have forced myself into, only allowing my thoughts to dwell on the short time I shared with Isabella. Remembering her smiling face, her melodious laugh, the soft sounds she made while she writhed beneath me; they all bring me comfort and give me focus in this never-ending nightmare.

My head lulls to the side, and my eyes fall on the decaying corpse of my wife's father.

In my time as a warrior, I've witnessed death countless times. I've killed men, beheaded my enemies, even left them to rot on the battlefield, but I've never watched a man be eaten by bugs and picked apart by the birds.

Exposed to the elements for so many days I've lost count, the sight of Charles' body is stomach-turning.

I turn my head away from the gruesome scene and rest my forehead on the pole. Every day or two, I've been moved, my hands chained in a new position, and today my arms are wrapped around the pole, bound together in front of me by the same heavy restraints.

I wince as the change in position pulls at the fresh wounds on my back. Left there only yesterday, they are still open and painfully raw.

The shuffling of feet nearby draws my attention. It is not the heavy stomping I associate with the guards, the ones who like to whip and stab at me for fun. No, it is the soft footfalls of the one person I care to see at all.

Susan of Thornbridge, the woman who once sat proudly beside Adwen's king as his courtesan, is the one who tends to my constant wounds. Though she is not the painted version of herself I first saw so long ago. No, now she is adorned in dresses as threadbare as my meager blanket, her feet ensconced in dirty slippers, holes allowing her toes to peek through.

"How are you feeling today, My Lord?" she asks softly as she approaches, kneeling beside me.

My response, like most days, is to groan. I've not been able to mutter more than a few words at a time since I was chained up in the courtyard.

"I've some ale for you," she says as she brings the cup to my lips. "Should help soothe your throat."

I swallow greedily, the lukewarm ale acrid and bitter on my tongue but soothing to my throat. "Thank you," I rasp as she pulls away the cup.

She nods once and sets to rummaging through her basket. She pulls out and unfolds a cloth, dousing it with a pungent-smelling liquid before holding it to my wounded flesh. She doesn't bother to warn me, as this is our routine most days. While it may burn like the fires of hell, I know it has kept the infection at bay. It is a welcome agony.

"Seems they got a might carried away this time," she mumbles under her breath and shakes her head. "If they keep this up, they'll have nothing to send your father but a body. You can't take much more of this."

"How long?"

"How long what, My Lord?"

"How long have I been here?" I manage to ask weakly.

She hums. "More than a moon cycle, less than two. It was near on a month you were held in a cell before you were brought out here." She looks around and then up to the sky before turning back to me. "And I worry winter will soon be upon us."

She leans toward me, meeting my narrowed eyes. "Have some faith, My Lord. Many things are afoot here at Broadcove."

"What?" I ask, my voice cracking.

She peers around the courtyard, searching for anyone who might overhear, all while avoiding looking in the direction of her dead and decaying lover. She leans close enough for me to hear her low whisper. "Your men are close. They were able to get one inside. He—"

"Here? One of—"

"Shh. Yes. You must have faith, My Lord. He is posing as one of the outlying farmers, here to tend to the animals. I cannot say much more, but when the time is right, you will be saved. I am sure of it." She pulls away and pats my shoulder. "There. That should do it." Again, she looks into her basket and pulls out a hunk of stale bread, placing it in my hand. "I'm sorry, My Lord, but this is all I was able to manage today."

I nod once in thanks and take her offering. Too unsettled with her news to eat it, I merely hold it in my weak grasp.

She gets to her feet and brushes the dirt from her skirts. "I shall be back tomorrow to see to you, My Lord."

As she turns to step away, a stiff breeze blows, sending my thin blanket into her path. Her feet get tangled, and she falls to her hands and knees, just a few feet away from Charles Swan's rotting form.

Her strangled sob pierces my heart. I know she was not his wife, but she cared for him as one would. It brings to mind the heart-breaking sound Isabella made as she watched my captors attack me, so it is doubly painful.

She struggles to her feet and flees the courtyard, leaving me to wait for my captors and what torture they might have planned for me this day.

* * *

I wake to the familiar, sharp sting of the whip as it slices through the cloth covering my back. There is not much left of my shirt, only a few stitches still holding together the torn patches of fabric.

I hiss as the lash makes contact once more, and the men tormenting me laugh.

"Just picked up a new whip this morning." The taunting voice of Jacob Black calls out from behind me. "I knew I needed to break it in, so I thought ... what better way than to test iton_ royalty_?" He and his cohorts chuckle at my expense, and I do my best to not let the pain show on my face.

Even weakened and broken, I will not allow this animal to think he's getting the better of me.

"Is that the only reaction I get? A hiss? Come now, I can see from here how deeply it cuts into your flesh." He pauses, and his tone changes when he continues. "Perhaps once you're released to go home, your pretty little wife will be so disgusted by your scars she'll see the error of her _choices_," he spits, "and return to her homeland."

He steps closer and kneels beside me, his voice low, threatening. "Who among us has ever heard of a man giving a woman a _choice_ to marry him?" he scoffs. "How weak are you that you gave her a _choice_? Were you not man enough to take what was given to you?" He leans in close, his words only reaching my ear. "I would have just ... taken."

As he wanted, I struggle against my chains, fury welling inside me to rip him apart, piece by piece.

He steps beyond where my partially flailing limbs can reach him, once again chuckling. "Seems I've hit a sore spot with His Highness."

It does not take long for me to expend every measure of strength. I am left slumped against the pole, my chest heaving from exertion in my ill attempt to strike him.

"Not as strong as you once were, are you?" he taunts. When I do not respond, he grows impatient with his game. "But that is no longer important. King Aro has grown bored of watching you lie around out here." He smirks. "Says it's time to get some answers from you. Luckily for you, he's ordered a change of scenery. Thinks you'll be more willing to tell us what we want to know if I can ... _persuade_ you, and he's left it up to me to decide where that will be."

While Jacob rambles on, the men accompanying him unlock my restraints and haul me to my useless feet. Supported almost entirely by their weight, I'm held face to face with Jacob's evilly gleeful expression.

"How about we see just how much it takes to break you, Cullen?"

* * *

Sweat pours from my body, and blinding pain courses through me. Jacob Black stands an arm's length away as he pushes the white-hot branding iron against my skin. I grit my teeth, using every ounce of restraint I have to stay silent.

"Still nothing?" he asks, sounding disappointed. "You Northerners are certainly a hearty bunch, are you not?" He smirks as he quenches the iron in a barrel of water. He walks over to the fire blazing in the hearth and kneels down to tend to it.

My eyes close during my brief reprieve, and I begin to wonder how long today's session will last.

I've again lost track of the days, one bleeding into the next as I'm left suspended from my restraints. The unforgiving planks at my back leave me no place to rest, but sometimes I cannot help but nod off. It is in my brief moments of sleep where I find comfort in dreams of my wife. Her soothing voice reminds me she is waiting for me, that if I am to protect her, I must remain steadfast.

I must not tell them what they wish to know.

Since being dragged into Jacob's lair beneath the castle—beyond the cells of other prisoners and into a hidden room where the sun does not reach—I have been repeatedly asked about Galon's defenses, the numbers of her army, which weapons we possess and how to infiltrate Masenthorne Castle.

Even though Jacob promises the safety of my family—Isabella's safety—I know if I divulge any of this information, they are as good as dead. My beautiful bride and the child she may now carry would be in grave danger.

So, I remain silent.

Even when he removes the small toe from my foot, I do not say a word. He's since threatened to remove my tongue, saying because I refuse to speak, there is no reason for me to keep it.

He's yet to follow through with his threat.

I've been mutilated, cut, burned, whipped, starved and deprived of sleep, and still, I stay strong.

For her.

I know if I do not, Aro's army will eventually march on Galon, their ruthless warriors pillaging and destroying simply for the chance to seize the kingdom.

I cannot allow that to happen.

Shuffled footsteps get my attention, and I open my eyes. I watch as Jacob rises to his feet and brushes off his hands. He walks over to the tall bench in the corner and rests an elbow on it. He plucks up a piece of bread and rips off a hunk with his teeth. "Who knew tormenting you would be such hard work?" he asks around his bite, his grin widening as he chews.

I concentrate on breathing, on staying alert. We've done this more times than I can count, so I know he's not through with me for the day.

He hums as he cocks his head. "What is it going to take? Aro told me I could do whatever it took to make you talk, but I couldn't kill you." He tosses the rest of the bread back to the plate and stands straight, stepping toward me.

His focus is intense as he nears, but I do not allow him to intimidate me.

"Why he needs you to stay alive, I can only guess. He must want a show of good faith when he knocks on the mighty King Carlisle's door asking for his lands." He grins malevolently. "Though, at this rate, I'm not sure how much of you will be left."

He turns his head, glancing at the workbench where he's stashed away his implements of torture, and then looks back to me, his smile evil. "Maybe I can lighten your load for the journey."

He's gone and back in the blink of an eye, a small, innocent enough looking blade in hand.

He holds it up, the short but sharp blade glinting in the firelight. "I have to wonder if your darling little wife would be so welcoming if you were to return to her unmanned." He looks down and then back up at me. "Do you think if I cut off your cock and fed it to the hogs, she'd still look at you the same? Hmm?"

He drags the tip of the blade down my chest, the sharp point scratching a faint line into my flesh. It comes to a stop just above the top edge of my pants. The gap between the fabric and my skin only widens as the days pass, and they barely hang at my hips.

He pushes with a faint amount of pressure at the base of my flaccid cock. My heart races and thunder pounds in my head as the edge of the blade just barely cuts into my skin.

Suddenly, he pulls away, and all of my breath whooshes out of me, my body sagging in relief.

"Wouldn't want to risk you bleeding to death." The corner of his mouth turns up in a sardonic grin. "After all, I wouldn't want to fall out of favor with my new king. He's promised me more riches than I've ever imagined if I lead them to victory in Galon. And the hand of a certain princess. Why would I want to risk any of that?"

Jacob steps away and throws the dagger toward the bench. The tip of the blade lodges in the wood.

"I think that's enough for today." He offers me one more mocking smile and turns to walk from the room. Just before he reaches the door, I gather the strength to call out to him.

"Black!"

He turns, surprised to hear me speak.

"When I get out of here, I vow to you, I _will_ kill you. If it's the last thing I do in this world, I will end you."

His answering laugh is the last thing I hear before the door falls closed, leaving me alone to think about all the ways to kill Jacob Black.

* * *

The creaking of the door alerts me to someone's arrival. I do not even bother to raise my head, expecting it to be my tormenter. But it is not Jacob's familiar slow and heavy steps that follow. No, they are light and swift footfalls, barely heard as they approach. By the time I lift my head, Susan comes into focus.

"Come now, My Lord. We must make haste. There is not much time." She moves to reach above me to unlock my shackles. Before she turns the key, her eyes meet mine. "You've been chained up an awfully long time. You'll be weak, and I do not think I will be able to catch you. I need you to use every bit of strength you have left to catch yourself."

Even in the haze of disbelief, I nod, agreeing with this woman, even though I do not know what is happening.

The lock clicks as she turns the first key, and my left arm falls heavily at side.

"Oh, that might be a problem if I unlock the other. Maybe I should have started with your feet." She laughs, but it is a nervous laugh, her anxiety strong enough to creep into me.

"What is happening?" I ask, my voice harsh and broken from disuse.

"Your men have infiltrated the castle. The night watch is not the most diligent bunch, and the rest of the men are off and occupied for the night." She kneels, looking up at me as she unlocks my leg shackle. "Seems the brothel chose tonight to send over a fresh batch of girls for the soldiers to enjoy. Those not plowing into the poor girls are there to cheer them on. They're all well deep into their cups, so I don't see them being able to run to the rescue of the watchmen. There," she says as the other lock clicks. "Easy now. Your muscles are weak, and you'll need help to walk."

"And you're to help me?" I ask incredulously.

"No, I thought I might have the honor, My Lord." Peter's voice comes from the doorway, and my head swings up to meet his worried gaze.

"Peter? How—"

"There will be plenty of time to answer questions, but now is not that time. We've only minutes to get you through the gates before the others know you've gone. Help me, Lady Susan?"

"Last one," she says as the final lock clicks, but she holds the shackle closed. "Hold to the chain until you find your feet, My Lord. Steady yourself, now."

I do as she says and hold firmly to the same chains that have kept me bound for months. The weight on my feet is foreign, and I feel weaker than a newborn foal, my legs unsteady and ready to collapse under the weight of me.

"Easy now, My Lord. I will help." Peter slips in beside me and loops his right arm behind my back, placing my left over his shoulders. "We've got a way to go, but we will get you out of here."

My legs are nearly useless, and Peter has to practically carry me up the stairs leading outside. What troubles me most is the fact he seems to have no trouble holding me up. When we reach the top, the crisp and cool night air fills my lungs, and I take what feels like the first deep breath in weeks. It very well might be.

Faint sounds of clashing steel can be heard in the distance, but Peter is not deterred from getting us safely away. We creep along the edge of the courtyard, toward the castle gates, and when we reach it, the only men guarding it are dead.

As we are about to pass through the gate, I turn back and watch as Susan falls back.

"Wait," I say gruffly to Peter.

"My Lord, we really must—"

"Come with us, Susan. You'll be safe in Galon."

She shakes her head. "No, My Lord. Go. Go home to your wife and protect her. She's needed someone her whole life to do just that, and I think she'll finally have that in you. Go now."

"They will realize it was you. They're sure to kill you."

Her head turns to where Charles' body laid for so long. It's long since gone, but I am sure the memory of it will forever remain in her mind. She looks back to me, tears filling her eyes. "No, my place is here. And I am counting on them taking my head. My life was over the moment they took his."

My gaze does not linger on hers, and I nod once. "Very well. Just know that I am indebted to you. Everyone in Galon will know it was you who made the way for my escape. May your journey to the next life be swift."

* * *

**A/N: A big thank you goes out to Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for doing their prereading duties once again, as well as to jayhawkbb for editing. Any mistakes up there are all on me. **

** Dominion of My Heart was voted #5 on the top fics of 2019! Thank you to all who voted! Xoxo. It's also nominated in a few categories, along with a few of my other stories, in the TwiFic Fandom Awards, going on now. The round one poll is open through this Tuesday, 3/3 until 11:59, EST. You can find it at twificfandonawards. blogspot. com. Just remove the spaces. **

**I still hope to re-visit these characters with outtakes, and perhaps a future take or two at some point, so be sure to keep this one on alert. **

**I've also posted the banner for this in my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics, and on my Twitter, CSunshine1220, so come chat with me! I also share teasers and chapter pics there every week of my current WIP.**

**Thanks so much for reading!**

**Lots of love  
****~Sunshine**


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